


Departmental Cooperation

by viceversa



Category: NCIS
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Assault, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Professor AU, Rom-Com Elements, Tropes abound, not totally removed from the NCIS universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28411869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: Having just moved across the country for a new tenure-track position at a university, Jack lets off a little steam with a silver fox stranger before her first day. Little did she know, that stranger would be her new colleague.-It's a professor au folks.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 171
Kudos: 291





	1. The Monroe

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Am I in higher education? Yes. Am I taking some liberties with how things function? It wouldn’t be nearly as fun if I didn’t.

Jack had been in town a grand total of half a week when she found the nearest bar free of drunk college students, depressed at the impending start of the semester. 

The establishment was  _ The Monroe _ and it was somewhere in between total dive and classic bar and restaurant. A wraparound bar with polished wood and brass accents dominated the space with lowly lit booths and scattered small tables filling the rest of the space. A jukebox in the corner was playing hits from the 70s at a respectable volume.

It was quiet when she got there, something her brain rejoiced at. The past week had been hell, from getting the call that she did get the job afterall to moving across the country with no warning and into an apartment sight-unseen. Not to mention her general lack of syllabi for the semester. 

The worst part of academia was the lack of planning ahead for anyone non-tenured, and she had never been lucky enough to even be considered. She’d had year-to-year contracts here and there, a few appointments for three or five years each, and even a few semesters of no work at all, fully relying on her savings and guest lectures. 

She didn’t get into the world of academia for steady employment, even if it would be nice, but this whole week had her exhausted and mentally strung out. Finding  _ The Monroe _ was a necessary evil, as none of her alcohol had been able to make the move, and she was in desperate need of some liquid relaxation before the start of Professional Development week which started officially at an 11am lunch meeting the next day.

Jack surveyed the bar’s patrons. Two booths were occupied with couples, a group of three older women were at a table, and a handful of quiet loners scattered around the bar. She perched on a stool that was equi-distant between two of the loners and ordered a mid-shelf whiskey, immediately ordering another as she downed the first. 

It had been a  _ week _ . 

She nursed the second glass and tried to process her new life. Just a few days prior she had been on the beach, resigning herself to another semester of adjuncting at a couple community colleges when she’d gotten the call from the University of Maryland. 

She had been shortlisted and interviewed for the tenure-track position about a month before, which had gotten her hopes up. It was practically her dream position, and she even knew some people at the college. She was an excellent candidate with years of experience and an active published presence, but young enough to not retire too soon. 

They’d gone in a different direction, or so she’d thought. Apparently, the young hot-shot that they’d offered the position to had been using their offer to leverage something better in Chicago and had left them in a lurch. She didn’t blame the Dean for the whole mess - it was all politics at the end of the day, and Leon had enough going on without her blaming him. 

The college had all but begged her to come anyway, offering to pay for her relocation up front and with a slightly more sizable starting offer than she’d expected. There wasn’t any chance she would have said no, but it was nice to hear them so desperate to have her. 

Cue a whirlwind of packing, making phone calls, finding an apartment, selling her car, and shipping the belongings she couldn’t part with to meet her on the other side of the country. 

She’d already leased a new car, and her things were relatively organized. She was saving the syllabi freak-out for after she got moved into her new office, in and around various pre-semester meetings. 

God, she was nervous. She’d been teaching for the better part of two decades, but she still battled nerves every time she started somewhere new. She was Jacqueline Sloane, Ph.D. and well-known name in her field, dammit. 

As she sipped the last of her drink, she felt a presence come up to the bar on her right side. Barely sparing the stranger a glance, she set the empty glass back down and tried to signal the bartender for another, glad she was within walking distance to her apartment as the background of the bar swam slightly.

“Matty’s goin’ ta be a minute,” gruffed the stranger. 

Repressing an eye roll at the unwanted attention, Jack turned and gave the man a look that could stop a chattering student in a millisecond, but it took less than that to be blindsided at the sight of the man. 

He was tall and strong looking, but not in a gym rat way - more like a sexy lumberjack kind of thing. His wearing old jeans, beat up boots, and a red and black flannel over a white shirt invited the comparison, but what really struck her were his eyes, blue as the ocean, and his handsome face and silver hair. 

He must have taken her look for an invitation to elaborate and sat down next to her, setting his own empty glass down. He must have come from a booth. “He’s been chattin’ up that guy every night I’ve been in here the last month. Takes a while.”

Jack managed to tear her gaze away and took in the scene across the bar. Matty was in fact leaning on the bar, oblivious to anything that wasn’t the handsome young man across from him. 

“By the look on that guy’s face, Matty isn’t wasting his time,” Jack remarked. 

“Just wasting ours,” the man huffed out a laugh.

Jack tried not to notice the half smile the stranger tucked down. A beat passed, the universe waiting for someone to speak. 

“So, new in town?”

Jack resigned herself to being pulled into a chat with this guy. “What makes you say that?” The words came out a little more flirty than intended, aided by two glasses of pretty good whiskey and a handsome stranger in close proximity. 

_ Ah, what the hell _ , she thought. 

“Haven’t seen you here before.”

“I could’ve just tried a new place than my usual,” Jack prodded. 

“True, but usually people don’t try someplace new on their own. ‘Specially not someone as gorgeous as you.”

If Jack had been drinking right then, she would’ve choked on it. “Forward much?”

“Eh,” the guy shrugged and tucked his head again, striking Jack as suddenly shy despite his actions. “Not often do I get the chance.”

“And what made you think you had one?” 

The guy looked down and smirked again, nodding to himself and making to leave at the implied rejection. Without a thought, Jack grabbed an edge of the flannel and tugged him back into his seat. 

He sat with a gentle grunt and a smile. 

“Sorry, it’s been a long week,” Jack smiled. Her hand lingered a little longer on his arm after he sat, and she thought again how lucky it was to be so close to her new apartment and new bed. How lucky that she was in the mood for distraction, and maybe a little… stress relief. 

“Yeah?”

“I just moved here, from across the country.”

“New in town,” the stranger repeated. 

“Correct.”

Matty chose that moment to take a break from flirting and refill their glasses. Jack noticed he was also drinking the mid-shelf whiskey, and he signaled to Matty that her new drink was on him. 

_ A gentleman, _ her head supplied. 

Having a pretty good idea of where the evening was headed, and happy to see that her skills were not as rusty as she’d originally thought, Jack settled in and drank with a smile mirrored by her companion for the evening.

-

Jack woke with a suppressed groan, knowing that verbalizing would only bring her pain. She knew she was in her new apartment, and that it was very early - early enough that her alarm had yet to go off. Her face was smashed into her sheet, pillow nowhere close by. 

Each second allowed her mind to fire up, and in less than a minute she remembered flashes of her night. 

If her count was right, by the end of her third drink her companion had a hand high up on her thigh. At the beginning of the fourth, they had moved into a secluded booth. She wasn’t sure if there was a fifth, but she did remember the hand that stayed low on her back on their way out of the bar, her own hands fumbling to open the door to her apartment. 

The flashes got more… explicit after that. Nicely so.

Her throbbing head and naked, aching body prevented the smile she had started from becoming fully fledged, but wow.  _ Welcome to the east coast. _

At that thought, her awareness kicked in enough to feel that she was not alone in her bed, which meant - 

“‘Mornin’,” the voice from behind her grumbled. 

Jack jumped involuntarily and rolled over with a groan and covered her eyes, trying to block out how sexy that voice sounded so early in the morning. She spared a glance to her bedside clock - it was nearly 6am. 

“Hello,” she forced out. “And you’re still here because?” she asked, not entirely unkindly.

“As I recall, we had a pretty late night. I jus’ woke up.”

He sounded slightly indignant, and she relaxed her arms, regretting her tone. 

“Listen, uh…” she turned to look at her bed companion and took in the early morning version of him, happy to see that it wasn’t the alcohol that made him look so handsome. 

“Jethro.” 

“Jethro,” she repeated, feeling only a little bad they hadn’t taken the time to introduce themselves the night before, or that she didn’t remember. “Jack,” she offered back. “I have an early appointment, so I don’t really have time for, uh, breakfast.”

That was her delicate way of saying,  _ thanks for last night, but kindly leave my apartment _ . 

“Understood,” the man -  _ Jethro -  _ smirked. 

He rolled up, quickly dropping a kiss on Jack’s forehead before standing and looking for his clothing. Jack’s head throbbed at his sudden movement, knowing that she should get up too. 

She levered herself up as Jethro pulled on his boxers, taking a final glance at his backside, wishing her head didn’t feel so full of cotton. He picked up his pants, then looked around again. 

“Uh, I think your shirts are in the living room?”

Jethro turned and smirked again, his face conveying that he remembered exactly how his shirt ended up there, likely close to her own shirt and bra. Jack felt an irrepressible blush begin and tried to cover the emotion. 

“I don’t usually… do this.”

Jethro tugged on his pants and zipped them, pausing just at the door as she spoke. “Yeah, me neither.”

“So…” Jack fumbled, needing a pot of coffee for a coherent sentence and squinting at the brightness of the morning. “Thank you?”

Jethro ducked his head and laughed, managing to look every bit as charming as she did remember from the night before, and Jack cursed his apparent hangover immunity. 

He walked into the living room and tossed back a sarcastic, “You’re welcome!”

Suddenly energized, Jack threw off the covers she’d been clutching to her chest and threw on her robe to follow him into her living room. 

He was bending behind the couch to retrieve his shirt. 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” 

“Why not?” he said, voice muffled as he finally snagged the shirts and put them on. “Perfectly polite, Jack.”

“Jethro…” Jack didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt awful. This is why she didn’t do one night stands, why she’d been single the better part of the last decade. 

Jethro slung on his flannel, patted his pockets to make sure he had everything, and approached Jack. “Hey,” he said. 

Jack looked up, feeling how tall he was without her heels on. 

“‘S alright.” His shoulders bounced. “I had a good time, a nice time. You?”

Jack blinked at the reassurance. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good. All that matters.” Jethro waited a beat, smiled, then swooped down and kissed Jack on the mouth. 

As quick as he’d moved, he was suddenly at her door. “If you want another nice night, you know where to find me.” And then he was gone.

Jack deflated, staring at the door just after it shut with a smile on her face she barely realized was there. 


	2. Room 317

Jack thanked her past self for predicting her hangover and laying out her clothing and office things the day before. She was able to take a long, scalding shower while her headache dissipated, leaving plenty of time to gather her office supplies and get to campus.

The extra time was needed to navigate campus and find the parking authority, get an ID and pass, navigate the campus again and find parking that matched with her pass. 

She’d worked on seven different campuses, each just as difficult as the last. She hoped she didn’t look hungover in her new ID picture.

By 9:30, Jack managed to park and take her first load of boxes into the social sciences building, Fielding Hall. From her conversations with her new boss, the building held a few departments: Psychology, Criminology, and Sociology. The offices took up the entire third floor and part of the second, with classrooms dominating the first floor and basement. 

Her path to the elevator was clear of others. It was likely that everyone else was waiting until the last second to attend the start of semester meetings. As it was in most academic buildings, the elevator was incredibly slow, and she waited over a minute for it to descend. She ascended to the second floor, sat down her boxes in the hallway, and went to the main office. 

She stopped in front of a large desk, a name plate proclaiming it was the desk of the Department Office Coordinator. Jack looked around and saw no one. “Hi, I’m looking for Pauline?” she asked into the room. 

A gray-haired head popped up from behind a row of filing cabinets, looking suspiciously at her. Well, as suspicious as a probable octogenarian in large, thick glasses from the 80s could look. “Yes?”

Jack waved, hoping this was the Pauline from all the emails that had been so helpful. “Hi there, I’m Jacqueline Sloane? Here to pick up my keys,” she gestured. 

“Oh! Dr. Sloane, good to meet you!” Pauline dottered to her desk and began rifling through the paperwork. “I’ve heard a lot about you - the department is very excited to have you.”

Jack wasn’t convinced about that, still a little sore from the last-second appointment. “Thank you, Pauline. I’m glad to be here.”

The office coordinator quickly found what she was looking for, a large yellow envelope full of paperwork and, no doubt, her office keys. 

Pauline handed it over. “Everything should be in there - map of the campus, paper copies of the academic calendar, department handbook and directory, meeting schedule, emergency plans, and copies of a lot of things you likely won’t need at all.”

Jack peeked into the heavy package and dug out her keys. Before she could ask, Pauline interrupted. 

“You’re in - hold on, let me double check here.” She bent over her desk to look at a file on her computer, hands typing more quickly than Jack would have expected. “That’s right - oh. Room 317. Hmm.”

Pauline sounded intrigued about that assignment. “Is that a good one?” Jack prodded. 

“Oh it’s fine! Has a window and everything. Just in an… interesting area. Next to the crime department, anyway. Guess that’s where they had room.”

Jack bit back her smile at calling Criminology the crime department and nodded at Pauline’s serious tone. “I’ll keep my eye out.”

That must have been the correct thing to say as Pauline smiled at her. Jack had a feeling that Pauline could be a very powerful ally and thanked her again, leaving the office. 

Top floor near a corner could be a good location. It had been a long time since she’d had an office at all, even longer that she had one not shared with twenty other adjuncts. 

The elevator dinged and she stepped out. The hallway was… a little creepy if she was being honest. The ceilings seemed lower, and despite the abundance of fluorescent lighting, it was darker too. She turned right, following the signs on the mostly bare walls, and found her office door. 

Balancing her boxes between her hip at the door frame, she unlocked the door and stumbled into her new academic home. 

It wasn’t bad, not at all. In fact, it was pretty nice. There was just one window, but it was wide and low with enough ledge space for plants. The room itself was about eight feet deep and seven feet wide - not huge but larger than some of the closets she’d had to share with others in the past. 

All of the furniture was pushed together in the corner, and she sat her boxes on her new desk. The desk looked standard for an older college, beat-up metal and heavy as hell, supporting a monitor and tower of a fairly up to date computer. 

In addition, she had two matching bookcases, one large and the other waist high, and an old wooden filing cabinet that looked like someone had been repeatedly kicking it for the last thirty years. Notably, there was no desk chair. 

Nodding to herself, Jack turned around and journeyed back to her car to get the rest of her things. 

-

On her second trip, laden down with two large tote bags of files and another two boxes, Jack noticed that there were a few more people around. It was after 10, and judging from all the families she saw walking around campus, it was also the first move-in day. 

Three students charged into the building just behind Jack, roughhousing and talking loudly enough to trigger what was left of her hangover. Jack watched out of the corner of her eye as she waited for the elevator, juggling the heavy load as her head throbbed right behind her eyes. 

Their juvenile shoving contest immediately went too far, and one of the boys knocked over an empty trash can, the sound making Jack jump. 

“Hey, watch it, this isn’t your frat house!” she said, utilizing her loud teacher voice. 

The boys paused their laughing and quickly honed in on her. The leer was expected, considering they were an unsupervised group of college boys. Jack swore that two of them looked her up and down.  _ Gross _ . 

“Sorry ma’am,” one of them replied, drawing out the title.

“That’s Professor. Go play outside,” she replied with more than a hint of condescension. 

Freshmen boys were still the same. Jack mentally catalogued their fraternity from the logos on their clothing and stepped into the elevator. She had other things to worry about than stupid 18 year olds. She remembered how quickly her hopes of teaching young adults turned into the reality of freshmen being just as bad - or even worse than - high schoolers. Something about the false sense of independence and freedom was a trigger for some to go wild.

Reaching her new office, she kicked the door open and set down her load on the desk again. There was barely enough time to freshen up before the division meeting, which was luckily in the same building.

-

The division meeting consisted of several departments. Each college groups them slightly differently - Psychology is sometimes thrown in with the liberal arts and sometimes with social sciences only. This meeting, according to the email the dean sent out with the schedule, included just Psychology, Sociology, and Criminology. Technically, they were a part of a larger humanities division, but they were also close with the sciences, so it made sense for them to split off and concern themselves with their own interests, especially with the amount of adjuncts and graduate students they had in the department.

Jack walked into the large lecture space where the meeting would be held and hovered near the door, not committing to sitting just yet. She mused that this room would likely house the large Intro to Psychology course when she felt a tap on her shoulder. 

She spun and smiled wide at her friend. “Leon! Oh, it’s good to see a face I recognize! Or should I say Dr. Vance?”

“Jack, how are you?” Leon greeted back. He guided them closer to an empty row of seats, out of the way of the influx of people. 

“Good, good. Got my ID and parking pass this morning, met Pauline as I moved my things in. She’s lovely.” Jack knew from his stories that Pauline had worked for the college longer than Leon had. 

“I hope she didn’t give you too hard a time,” he smiled. “Have you met anyone else?”

“No - other than Pauline, you, and my department head over Skype, everyone else is a stranger. I haven’t even started to unpack yet.”

“Well, there’ll be plenty of time to meet everyone.” Leon glanced at his watch and checked the room. “I’ve got to get this thing started in just a few, and there’s a maze of people to say hello to first. Fair warning, I will be mentioning Dr. Sloane as our prize new hire.”

Jack punched him softly on the arm as he walked away, more than happy to see her old friend again after such a long time. Finding herself alone, she wandered over to the refreshment table and started making a coffee, knowing that it would be just passable enough to drink with her usual amount of sugar. 

“Are you Jacqueline Sloane?” someone behind her asked

She turned and saw a nice looking woman who she vaguely recognized as someone from her department standing behind her, along with a man she didn’t recognize. “Yes, hello!” she said, trying to sound like a good colleague.

“I’m Theresa, and this is Brandon, we’re both in your department! Clinical psych and industrial. Nice to meet you in the flesh.”

Jack shook both of their hands. “Nice to meet you too!” Her profiler instinct made her take in the details that she could file away for later. 

Theresa was a little shorter than Jack, and maybe ten years older. She reminded Jack of a librarian in her unassuming beige clothing and reading glasses around her neck. Her black hair was unashamedly streaked with white, and she clutched a mug of tea in one hand, apparently brought down from her office. 

Brandon was nearly her opposite in appearance, tall and lanky in a nicely pressed shirt and sweater vest, and on the younger side. She noticed the small pride sticker on his portfolio folder and the ring on his finger. 

Their body language favored each other, and Jack felt as though these two were thick as thieves. 

“I was on the hiring committee - and let’s just say we are thrilled to have you here. All things honest, you were our first choice,” said Brandon, smiling as he relayed the secret. 

“That’s good to hear,” Jack laughed.

“Where did they stick you? Which office?”

“Oh, uh, 317 I think. Got my keys from Pauline this morning.”

Jack’s new colleagues looked almost frozen for a moment, taking a long side look at each other, and Theresa recovered first. 

“That’s an… interesting corner!”

_ That was exactly what Pauline said _ , thought Jack.

“A little bit of a walk from us, but the only open office on our side is an interior one. No windows,” Brandon added. 

“And no doubt the grad students will claim it for themselves,” Theresa continued, almost cutting off Brandon in her haste. “But your office… lovely.”

“It does have a nice view,” said a Jack, suspicious at their antics. “I think it’s by Criminology?”

“Only the best for our new hire!” said Brandon. “Even if it is by Gibbs.”

Theresa nudged Brandon sharply in the side, but the name perked Jack’s interest. This Gibbs must be the reason Pauline acted oddly about her office assignment too. Jack leaned in and tried to get more information from the two. 

“Gibbs?” she asked.

The two in front of her didn’t need to exchange glances again for Jack to feel their energy level go up. They’d been waiting for this opening. 

“Criminology,” Theresa supplied. “He’s… well. Grumpy.”

“Gruff,” added Brandon. “But a total silver fox.”

“Has a way of pushing away, well, everyone.”

“A little off-putting, but he’s got tenure,” Brandon shrugged. “Been here a while, but no one is very close to him.”

Theresa leaned in close. “Some people love him from afar, and others, well…”

“Others run and hide, and sometimes quit!” Brandon looked up and sighed. “He’s my hero, honestly.”

“Oh please, you’re afraid of him too.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate him from a distance. You know,” Brandon said, turning back to Jack, “he was on the committee that hired you too, since we needed a forensic psychologist.”

“Yeah, rumor has it… well,” Theresa paused.

“Well what?” Jack asked, finally getting a word in edgewise. 

Theresa looked around them briefly and lowered her voice. “Rumor has it that he had something to do with the first candidate turning this offer down. Argued pretty hard for you, sent him running for the hills.”

_ Oh? That’s… more than interesting, _ Jack thought. 

Before she could ask for more information, Leon stepped behind the lectern and everyone moved to sit down. Jack followed Brandon and Theresa at their urging. 

Jack’s mind raced as Leon started the powerpoint, bringing the departments up to speed on new numbers and campus initiatives that concerned them. Ten minutes in, the door at the front of the room opened, and in walked a man that Jack thought she might never see again, at the very least not so soon. 

Theresa nudged Jack’s arm and pointed subtly to the latecomer. “That’s him,” she whispered. “That’s Gibbs.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open as she watched the mysterious Gibbs walk to an empty aisle seat, not ten rows in front of her, knowing full well that his first name was Jethro.

_ Ah, hell.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think!


	3. Classtime

Jack’s mind went into overdrive.  _ Jethro  _ Gibbs was her new colleague, office neighbor, one night stand, and apparent fan? What had they even talked about the night before? Had she said where her new job was? Had he said where he worked? Did he know? Did he think she knew?

Feeling incredibly unbalanced, it was a struggle to retain any of the meeting after he walked in. She spent most of the next hour staring intently at the back of his head and pretending that she was looking anywhere else. 

She was vaguely aware of Leon wrapping up the meeting. 

“Before we all grab lunch and work on last minute syllabus changes,” her old friend said from the front of the room, “I’d like to take a second and officially welcome our newest hire - forensic psychologist Dr. Jacqueline Sloane.”

At the sound of her own name, Jack snapped her attention up to Leon just as he gestured toward her. 

Everyone in the lecture hall turned in their seat to catch a glimpse. Jack held up a meek hand and waved politely, flushing as her gaze swept unseeing over the crowd as they clapped, her eyes inevitably drawn directly back to Gibbs. 

And there he was, taking her in with sharp blue eyes and an even sharper smirk. 

Jack hoped in vain that the floor would take mercy on her and swallow her whole.

-

Jack moved quickly through the dismissed crowd to delay the inevitable moment Gibbs found her. She needed some time to collect her thoughts. She was able to slip out the door, skipping the table full of ready-made lunch boxes for the faculty to escape the welcomers. 

Jack knew it would take time to get to know everyone anyway, and it would be useless to force it during as stressful a week as this. Her main goal was to get her office set up so she could finish her syllabi and prepare, and avoiding Gibbs for a little while longer was just a bonus.

The third floor was quiet, as most everyone was still downstairs, and she dashed to her office and shut the door behind her. Jack stepped back into the closed door. She checked her watch and sighed, there was over an hour until the next meeting, which was faculty wide and halfway across campus.

If only she had a chair to sit in and free lunch to eat.  _ Coward,  _ she thought to herself. 

Jack halfheartedly nudged the nearest, smaller bookcase closer to where she wanted it and decided to arrange her office since there was nothing else to do. 

The larger bookcase stayed where it was, and the beat-up filing cabinet could stay in its corner as well. Jack finished shoving the smaller bookcase to its new position. Before moving the heavy desk away from the larger bookcase, she started offloading her books and files onto the shelves to organize later. 

Happy to see that the floor had been cleaned in the last year, she shoved the heavy desk into position. She was just lacking chairs.

She felt like she was lacking more. This new job was supposed to be a fresh start, an opportunity to settle in one place and have a job for as long as she wanted. She had intended on making friends here, on building a stable life, but it felt like she already got off on the wrong foot. 

Sleeping with a stranger to relieve a little stress is one thing. Actually, it was something Jack was more accustomed to than trying at a real relationship. She’d had only one-night stands for over a decade, by choice, some more successful than others. But she never saw them after the night - and now she had to work directly next to one.

She wondered about her new colleagues and their reaction to Gibbs. Theresa and Brandon seemed to think he was untouchable, attractive, and aloof. Pauline didn’t give her much, but she had reacted when she found out where Jack’s office was - directly next to him. By all accounts thus far, Gibbs had power in this place, and she didn’t want to be on the wrong side of it. 

At that thought, she heard a knock at her door.

“Yes?”

The door opened to reveal the inevitable, with a surprise - Jethro Gibbs stood in her doorway, pushing a desk chair with two box lunches in it. 

Jack straightened, reminding herself that she did have dignity and poise and all of the things she really, really wasn’t feeling just then. 

“Jethro,” she said. 

He ducked his head slightly and smiled, and everything in Jack’s body electrified, a physical memory of the night before. 

“Jack,” he acknowledged.

He motioned with the chair and she allowed him to push it into her office, accepting the offering as it was. While she rolled it where she wanted it and put the lunches on her desk, Gibbs ducked back into the hallway and drug in another chair that he placed in front of her desk, disappeared again, then reappeared with a mug of hot coffee for himself.

They sat and allowed a beat to pass in silence, and Jack found herself shaking her head - at him, at herself, at the whole situation. 

“This cannot happen,” she said to herself. 

Gibbs shifted and opened his lunch on her desk, smirking a bit. “I think it did happen.”

Jack laughed despite herself and opened her own meal. “I mean, did you know?”

“Nope,” he shook his head and bit into the passable sandwich. “Didn’t know your name ‘til this mornin’.”

Jack tore into the bagged chips. “This is insane. But we…” she sighed and stuffed chips into her mouth, washing them down with her own lukewarm cup of coffee.

“We, Jack?” 

“We’re colleagues. Office neighbors, apparently.”

“Yeah,” he said, infuriatingly unbothered as he took another bite.

“Don’t you think that this - that last night - complicates now? Makes it awkward.”

He shrugged in reply.

“Jethro!”

“Listen, if you’re not,” he paused and gestured in between them to finish the sentence, “then we don’t have to. Doesn’t have to be a thing.”

Jack gaped at him. “That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“Just like that?”

He just gave her a look. “I’m not going to push you, Jack.” 

She watched as his shoulders jumped, and something in her gut loosened. It amounted to trust, trust in a man she’d barely known for a day, but it felt right. Just because what happened last night… happened… doesn’t mean she had to run and hide, or have some major conflict. He was too good a man for it, and so was she.

“Alright, then.” 

They finished their lunches relatively quietly. 

“This is a nice chair,” Jack said. She settled back into it. “Feels like it was made in the last decade. Thank you.”

Gibbs just smirked in reply.

Jack noticed the time again. “Will I see you at the all-faculty meeting?”

“Nah.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Jack knew it wasn’t a personal rejection - he seemed like the type to avoid the more social meetings. “I guess I’ll… see you around.”

Gibbs stood and gathered their trash. “See you around,” he said, nearly mocking the tone. 

Jack watched as he disappeared out of her door and into his own office. 

Directly next to her. 

Her head in her hands, Jack tried to rally herself to get through the rest of the day. They stuck her with the criminology department, right next to a man she thought was a semi-anonymous one night stand and was now a work colleague. 

With a few minutes to spare, which wasn’t nearly long enough to get the desktop computer up and running, Jack decided to do a little search on Jethro Gibbs on her phone. 

-

Three weeks later, and she was still processing what she found. Jethro Gibbs was a decorated Marine veteran and an ex-NCIS agent with an astounding record of arrests and acts of heroism, one of which landed him out of fieldwork permanently. 

Jack had a hunch that Leon had something to do with Gibbs moving into academia - he had the Navy connections, hell, he had Army connections too. When Leon made friends it was for a good reason, and he kept them for a long time. And apparently, he liked to keep them close. 

She was settling in to teaching. Her department head, Dr. Granada, had started her off easy with a few huge sections of Psych 101, a slew of second-year TAs, and one abnormal psych course for the majors. 

A few weeks into the semester meant that things were settling in. Students seem less harried and knew how to navigate campus and make new friends. Her office was unpacked and organized, and three plants lined the deep window ledge. She went with a safe mixture - a ZZ plant that would never die, a pothos that could thrive or not, and a finicky fern.

She enjoyed turning in her nice chair and contemplating them, switching between the view over the plants and staring at a spot on the wall that separated her and Gibbs’ office, right above the beat up filing cabinet. That was another point of tension in her mind - the drawers were stuck. 

Jack wasn’t sure if the locking mechanism was broken, or if the wood had swelled and sealed whatever was in the cabinet for good. She had tried to move it into the hallway for someone else to deal with, but the damn thing was too heavy, so she resolved to get a jimmy of some sort to open it.

Her phone dinged, alerting her that her next class started in ten minutes, and she smiled. Abnormal psych was one of her favorite classes to teach. For one, the students always seemed more interested in that course than others, and she loved to see the transformation from fascination to understanding over the course of the semester. 

-

They were just starting to get into the meat of class content, into case studies that would spurn their interest into final projects. Today she was going to present a new case study and introduce the cross-section of abnormal psychology and crime. 

Jack walked into the classroom and was happy to see that her class was all on time.

“Hi everyone,” she greeted, and the class grumbled a reply. 

She set down a folder of paper on the desk and leaned on the front of it. She tried to facilitate more conversation in her classes when she could. In a large lecture like her 101 courses, where there were two hundred students there for a general course requirement, she relied on powerpoints and technology for participation. 

“So, we’ve covered all of the definitions and done a few case studies to start off the semester - and yes, your exams are currently being graded.”

Jack saw a few tense smiles in reply, but she knew that most of them did well. 

“Alright,” she clapped her hands to draw their attention. “Who can tell me the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath?”

The subject was tricky. Jack knew that it was a topic that people approached with relish - for the entertainment of speculation and high drama of true crime. She wanted to provoke their interest without gossiping and trivializing those with antisocial personality disorder to solely criminals. It was a difficult line to walk.

A few hands raised, and she called on the one who didn’t speak as much. “Yes, Claire?”

“Didn’t you say that both fall under people who have antisocial personality disorder? And they share pretty similar traits.”

“You’re right. Anyone care to elaborate?”

“Psychopaths don’t have a conscience,” replied Derek. “They hurt people, use them as objects to get what they want.”

“That is largely believed to be the case, yes,” said Jack. “And sociopaths may have more of a conscience, but do share many of the same traits, as Claire pointed out.”

“Does that mean they’re interchangeable terms, then?” asked another student, who Jack believed was called Erin. 

“In some cases, yes,” she replied honestly, using the question to jumpstart her lecture. “The terms are often thrown out for flash, in the media or otherwise. Both carry a weight to them, just like any other mental health diagnosis - a weight that is usually full of stereotypes and connotations that aren’t entirely accurate. 

“People who are afflicted with antisocial personality disorder have a wide range of experiences. Most are not violent, but yes, many do ‘use’ people to get what they want with little or no remorse or regard for another person. Now, how many of you equate psychopath or sociopath to criminals - murderers, serial killers - upon first thought?”

Most of the class raised their hands, and Jack nodded. 

“And that’s how many people know the term. At worst, psychopaths are cold blooded killers with no remorse. But they can also be,” she shrugged, “anyone. Mostly those in positions of power or wanting to be - climbing the corporate ladder, those who hoard wealth, many politicians.” Jack shrugged again.

The class chuckled. 

“But what makes the difference between a killer and a selfish CEO?” she asked rhetorically. “How can we profile and find a Ted Bundy that lures women and kills them instead of a Ted Bundy that is just a chronic manipulator? Further - how can we define one serial killer as a psychopath and another as, well, not technically mentally ill?”

The class looked at her with interest - exactly how she wanted them. She smiled, grabbed the file behind her, and started to distribute the case file they would be looking through today. There was nothing like teaching what she was passionate about, seeing the interest rise in a younger generation and being able to share it with them. It was classes like this that made everything else worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all I miss teaching in person so much.   
> also I hope you enjoyed the mini diagram of offices - I'm a very visual person so I thought some of you would like to see it as well. more soon! please tell me what you think :D


	4. The Long Week

Jack was distracted during her classes and quickly tired throughout the day just due to the mental gymnastics of keeping on track. That morning had marked the second time something was weird about her morning commute from the parking lot to her office. There was something off about the walk - like someone was watching her, or maybe following her. 

Maybe her instincts were just out of wack with the growing stress of the semester in full swing.

On the second floor near the main office was the break room, full of old rejects of office chairs long past their prime and wobbly tables, secondary printers and copiers, as well as life saving kettles and coffee makers. Jack was a regular visitor, vowing to get her own office kettle but enjoying the common area. She’d met more people in her department several times there, including Theresa and Brandon, who seemed to always be there when Jack came through.

“Hi guys,” Jack greeted the two as she entered the room in desperate search of coffee. It had been a long week and it was only Wednesday afternoon. She’d already felt a little weird from that morning, and she needed a caffeine boost to get her through the rest of the day.

“Jack! How are you?” asked Brandon. 

He and Theresa were at their usual table nursing hot tea and working half-heartedly on what looked like a pile of grading. 

“Good, good - glad the week is technically half over,” Jack replied. She was becoming slightly alarmed when the third cabinet she opened still held no coffee grounds, and Theresa noticed. 

“We’re out of coffee,” she said. “There’s tea if you’re interested!”

Jack deflated. “Thanks,” she said. It was the next best thing if she didn’t want to leave the building. She found the strongest tea available and started a kettle to boil. As she waited, she leaned on the counter and looked at her colleagues. “How goes it?” she asked, gesturing to the work in front of them. 

Brandon leaned back heavily. “Every semester I give out homework and forget that I have to grade it all. It’s a trap.”

Theresa laughed. “Over the last few years, I’ve started doing more informal tests - presentations and oral exams. Less papercuts,” she wiggled her fingers. 

“I get it, and I’m thankful to have a small army of TAs for the 101 kids,” Jack conceded, “but more work seems to fill any possible void, doesn’t it?”

Her friends nodded in solidarity. 

“I have three articles floating out for review, and three more to edit and send out again,” said Theresa. 

“I’ve got six in my inbox to peer review, and another seven or eight floating,” commiserated Brandon. 

Jack nodded. She’s barely had time to think about publishing while transitioning, but she’s had a few articles come back for revision too. “It never ends,” she said. “But somehow we love it.”

“I couldn’t imagine doing something else with my life,” said Brandon.

Theresa nodded. “Doesn’t mean we can’t get grumpy about it, though,” she joked. 

Jack smiled and turned as the kettle clicked off, preparing her mug with the tea bag and sugar and pouring in the hot water. It would at least get her through a few hours of backlogged work before going home. 

“Speaking of grumpy…” Brandon started, “how is it being neighbors with Dr. Agent Silver Fox?”

Jack choked on air as Theresa laughed with Brandon. “What?” she forced out. 

“Sorry not sorry,” said Brandon. 

Theresa thumped him on his arm. “Sorry, Jack. Brandon has no filter - it’s just that usually Gibbs has run off whoever is in that office by now, but you’ve made it weeks.”

Brandon nodded in agreement. “Dr. Bruder lasted, what, two weeks?”

“And Cassie less than that,” Theresa added. “Then the grad students tried to move in.”

“I think one of them ran away crying the first day,” Brandon nodded, for once completely serious. “It’s been empty for nearly a year.”

“And yet here we are, nearly at midterms, and Dr. Sloane remains unscathed.” 

Theresa and Brandon both looked to her, and Jack just stood there, her hot mug of tea gently scalding her hands. “Well, I’m a quiet neighbor?” She really didn’t have anything to say. She didn’t think they were trying to accuse her of something, more like they just wanted some gossip to distract from afternoon grading purgatory. 

The two in front of her shrugged. 

“Maybe,” said Theresa. 

“Or maybe he’s sweet on you, Sloane,” joked Brandon. 

Suddenly filled with an urgent need to leave immediately, Jack smiled and laughed it off. “We’ll see. Maybe I’ll start playing some death metal and run him out - he’s got a nice corner office up there.”

Getting the laugh out of the two gossips that she wanted, Jack tilted her head to the door and made her escape. “I’ll see you guys - got my own grading and to do.”

“Bye Jack!”

“Good luck!”

Whether the last comment was meant for grading or Gibbs, Jack didn’t know.

-

Thursday brought a light class load and lunch with Leon. It was the first time she was able to meet with her friend in some quality time. The life of a Dean was a busy one at the beginning of the semester, especially one with a family that takes priority. But Leon sent the email invite at the beginning of the week, and Jack had been looking forward to a nice lunch off campus. 

They met outside the restaurant - Louie’s, apparently home to the best shrimp risotto in the area. Their reserved table was ready and Leon ordered some wine to start. 

“You’re done with classes today, correct? Can’t send back a tipsy teacher,” he joked. 

“Would make for an interesting class though,” Jack replied, happy to be with her friend. “I’m done for the day.”

“It’s definitely been one of those weeks, hasn’t it?”

“You know, I think if I had tracked the timing of ‘those weeks’ over my career, they’d line up with each other. Weeks one through four, it’s a new and exciting semester for everyone. Then, bam! Week five through midterms, hell on Earth.”

Leon laughed at that. “You’re probably on to something there, Jack. May be a paper in your future.”

“Is that a not-so-subtle question, Leon?”

He shrugged, pausing as their wine was poured and they ordered the aforementioned risotto. 

“Just… checking in. Seeing how you’re settling in.”

“Settling in is about all I’ve accomplished,” Jack said, lowering her defenses. It wasn’t Leon’s fault that she hadn’t had time or energy to focus on anything else. 

“You and I both know that the road to tenure is a steep climb. I just want to make sure you’re on track, or even ahead of the curve.”

“I get it. I do.” Jack let out a sigh, trying not to let all the work she had in front of her pile up in her mind. “One thing at a time.” She took a generous sip of wine at the thought.

“Good. Now. How’s the office?”

Jack looked up from her wine glass at the subject change, noting the slight twinkle in his eye. “It’s good. Uh, why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

He replied too quickly, and Jack connected some dots. “You stuck me next to him on purpose!” This lunch was turning into an inquisition.

“What? I would never-”

“Leon,” she said with a look. 

“Fine. I did. But I had good reason.” 

“Oh, you better,” she said, only half teasing. The secret of her and Gibbs’ first meeting was something she didn’t want to get out, even more so now that the truth of Gibbs’ position in the division was becoming clear.

“Listen, Gibbs is a good man. A great teacher, when he lets himself. A take-charge leader, but he’s a bit of a loner. It’s caused some, shall we say disruptions, in the past.”

“I’ve heard.”

“I just think he could use a friend, is all. Someone to… challenge him.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “And I’m a challenge, Leon?”

“Not like that, in a good way, I promise. You,” Leon let out a sigh. “You’re strong, Jack. Smart, witty. You don’t take anyone’s crap and you’re resistant to intimidation.”

“Nothing like siccing a forensic psychologist on your friend,” she said. 

“Yeah, well, Gibbs is Gibbs. Whether he ends up a friend or a case study is up to you.”

Jack broke her glare at that and smiled. “Now that could be a paper!”

They laughed right as the risotto appeared and dug in. Jack asked about Jackie and the kids, and Leon spent the rest of their meal regaling her with family antics. 

The question of Gibbs hung in her mind. Deep down, she knew that their journey was not even close to over, whatever it ended up becoming.

-

By Friday, no one had brought coffee grounds into work and Jack was cursing herself for not bringing her own. Her favorite blend was on backorder from San Diego and she was rationing what she had left at home. 

She steadied her scavenged tea from the break room and walked up the stairs to her office, hoping to curb a headache that was blooming behind her eyes. 

The last few weeks of interactions with Gibbs flitted through her mind, the teasing of Theresa and Brandon still fresh each time she went to the break room. She had searched for any sign that he was trying to push her away, or even that he wanted to keep her around like Theresa and Brandon hinted, but she couldn’t determine his mood. 

She could say they were friendly, at least. He did get her a good desk chair as a peace offering, and he had always acknowledged her presence when they passed in the hallways. He was the one who got her a key to the supply closet close to them and he told her a better place to park. They’d exchanged dozens of little conversations over the weeks. 

If anything, the whole work colleagues thing was working out, even if she was plagued with memories of a one night stand every time he smirked at something she said. 

It was in a dark corner of the already dark third floor, and it was nearly spooky when deserted on a late Friday afternoon. Most everyone had already gone home, but she was stuck for a little longer. The sun was low in the sky, and Jack wanted little else than to go home and curl up, but the next week still needed to be planned out. 

As she approached the previously abandoned ‘interesting corner,’ she noticed that Gibbs’ door was ajar and his light was on. Two steps closer, and she smelled freshly brewed coffee. 

Without thought, she followed the scent until she’d reached his door instead of her own and found herself tapping at it. 

“Yeah?” Gibbs said from within. 

Jack leaned into the door and took in the sight before her. She’d known that Gibbs often stayed late and was usually in his office before her, but she’d never been inside. 

“Hey, working late?” she asked, distracted by the sight of a full pot of hot coffee just behind Gibbs. His office felt grounded - his desk was made of heavy wood, and it looked to match the bookshelves on either side of his room. It smelled like sawdust and coffee in the best combination. His corner windows gave a view through the trees of the sunset over campus.

Gibbs nodded but Jack barely noticed it, entranced by the smell wafting toward her. The mug of English Breakfast felt incredibly sad in her hand. 

She missed the way Gibbs sort of looked back and forth at her and what she was staring at, so she startled at his question. 

“Want some coffee?”

“God, yes,” Jack said immediately. “By the gallon, please.” Her last coffee had been that morning, and that was much too long ago.

Gibbs gestured for her to sit. She did, setting her still hot tea down to receive the cup of coffee with gratitude, trying her hardest to not think the words ‘knight in shining armor.’

“It’s strong-”

Before Gibbs could finish the warning, Jack had gulped down a good portion of it and sighed in relief. 

“Alright, then,” he finished. 

Jack smiled. “I prefer sugar - lots of it, but I can drink it battery acid black.” She coughed slightly as the burn reached her throat, but she still held out her mug for him to top it off, the strength reminding her of too many late nights in grad school. “And I got to say, Gibbs, this is pretty damn close.”

Gibbs huffed out a laugh, the first genuine one she’d heard from him since their first day of, uh, knowing each other. 

Suddenly aware that she was in his office for no reason other than stealing his coffee, she tried to fill the silence. 

“So, what’s got you here so late on a Friday?”

He shrugged, refilling his own coffee before sitting back in his chair. 

“The usual.”

“Got you teaching a bunch of kids who don’t know anything yet, and now the grading is piling up, huh?”

He smirked again. “Yeah, well. Good to get to them young. Teach’em right. Try to, anyway.”

Jack smiled at him. “I agree. Though it’s difficult to wade through two hundred bored freshmen to find the interested handful in one class.”

Gibbs cringed slightly at the reference to the Psych 101 course. “‘Course it’s easier to find the uninterested in small classes.” 

“Because they won’t shut up in class or they’re sleeping, I gotcha.” Jack smiled and sipped at the coffee, starting to feel its effect on her. “The 101 class is a trip, but I’m glad to have a good section of Abnormal Psych this semester.” 

“Yeah?”

She saw him perk up at that, seeing a connection to their fields. Maybe the whole colleagues and friends thing could work out for them, especially if they based their friendship on common interests instead of common… attraction. 

“We’re two weeks into the criminal mind,” Jack said dramatically. “It always hooks their interest, even in this weird time of the semester.”

“Ah,” Gibbs said. 

Jack sensed he wasn’t done, so she waited another beat. 

“So. From your angle it’s not just about motive, but the… mental circumstances?”

She knew that he knew what a forensic psychologist did, but he was obviously angling toward something so she played along. “You could say that. We look at the crime, the criminal, and then their history. With many, there’s a pattern in early childhood - a head injury, abuse from an adult, sexual abuse, repeated trauma of some kind.”

Gibbs nodded, so Jack continued with a mini lecture of things she knew he used in his own work. 

“Of course, those things alone don’t make a violent killer. There are often demographic consistencies - white, lower class, male. Sometimes there is an underlying mental illness that is exasperated like schizophrenia, narcissistic or antisocial personality disorder - again, none of those illnesses makes a killer alone.”

“And that’s where it gets interesting.”

Jack nodded. “Exactly. One child has significant trauma, develops a mental illness, and grows up to be a perfectly respectable and functional member of society.”

“Same happens to someone else,” Gibbs added, “and they kill a dozen people in cold blood.”

“Exactly. Now, studies have shown that early mental health intervention is important, and that providing external support is the key for healing. But when a person is isolated, ostracized, throughout their life - that’s often a different story.”

There was something about Gibbs when he was focusing, a glint in his eye, that entirely lowered Jack’s carefully constructed boundaries. Something about absolute focus on the man was powerful. 

Jack realized she had trailed off at his look and tried to snap back to attention. “Why are you interested, Gibbs? You know this stuff.”

“I know it from my end, Jack.” He shook his head slightly. “Not from a profiler’s point of view.”

Jack tilted her head, knowing instinctively that the other shoe was still hanging. “And you need my point of view on something?”

Gibbs sat up straight and shuffled a few papers on his desk, and Jack was struck at how innocently nervous the actions seemed. She wasn’t certain, but she had a hunch that interpersonal communication was not something Gibbs engaged in much. 

Finally, Gibbs relented. “I’m working on a case study. Old case - writing up the specifics. But I’m missing something.”

“And you think that you're missing, what, the profile?”

Gibbs half nodded, which was somehow charming. 

“And, let me guess,” Jack smiled, “you want my help?”

He cleared his throat. “Could use it, if you’re interested. Get you a credit.”

“Not a chance, Jethro,” she winked, unable to help the tease. “If I’m helping, we’re co-writers.”

Gibbs smiled and half shrugged in acceptance. The man could communicate paragraphs in body language alone, which was fascinating to Jack. Maybe he’d be a good candidate for a case study after all. 

“Fair,” he said finally. “You free this weekend?”

Considering that her only plans were to do as little as possible, Jack nodded. “Where should we meet, _The Monroe?_ ”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “I know a good diner. Lunch?”

They made plans and exchanged phone numbers, which Jack tried to treat as casually as possible despite the lurch in her gut. After another coffee refill, she excused herself to go work on her lessons. 

She needed to be ready for lunch the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> general note: I am not a forensic psychologist and what I do know about criminal psychology comes from listening to murder podcasts and watching documentaries, so excuse me if I say anything wrong!


	5. The Case

The diner Gibbs said to meet at was exactly as she pictured - a retro style, narrow diner sandwiched in between big city buildings like it was an afterthought. She entered and saw him at a booth and sat across from him. 

“Hey,” she greeted, picking up the menu to suppress a sudden flutter of nerves. This wasn’t a date - it was a business lunch. A consult. Purely professional. 

A waitress walked up and refilled Gibbs’ coffee, then filled Jack’s empty mug when she turned it over. 

“The usual, Gibbs?” the waitress asked. 

Jack subtly raised an eyebrow at that - the man came here often enough to have usuals? Jack’s mind immediately started to categorize - Gibbs was a man of habit, once he liked and trusted something he made it a part of his life. Reliability was important.

“Yeah, thanks Elaine.”

“And you?”

Jack looked up to meet the eyes of Elaine, feeling certain that this acquaintance of Gibbs was protective of him in some way, mainly because of the serious side-eye she was giving Jack. She had a feeling that Gibbs didn’t bring many people to eat lunch with him. 

Jack smiled wide, hoping to curtail any suspicion. “I’ll have the club, and an iced tea please, thank you.”

Elaine waited a beat, visually sizing up Jack in a not-subtle way, then nodded her head and disappeared. 

Jack turned back to Gibbs and saw him watching her in amusement. “Did I pass?” she asked. 

Gibbs smirked and looked at the table. “Looks like it.”

“Good to know,” she laughed. Gibbs just sat there and drank his coffee, and Jack scrambled for something to say, inexplicably feeling awkward. “So, I’ve got a question I want to ask you.”

“Hmm?”

“Is it true that you were on the hiring committee for my position?”

“Yep. Got roped into it.”

“Not enough voluntary committee time, huh.” Jack was pleased that what Theresa and Brandon had said seemed to be true. So far, anyway. 

“You could say that. And they needed someone from my department.”

“Since the position would have crossovers, yeah.” Forensic psychology had uses in both Psychology and Criminology, of course. Jack expected to be teaching in both departments in the future.

“Ask what you wanna ask, Jack.”

“Brandon told me that you fought for me over the guy they originally hired?” She tried not to blurt the question, but it came out quickly anyway.

The smirk on his face twitched slightly, and he was saved from answering when Elaine dropped off their lunches and Jack’s iced tea. 

For a moment. 

“That’s not a no,” she prodded. 

“Jack,” he sighed. 

“Gibbs.”

He rolled his eyes and shuffled the fries on his plate. “Yeah, not a no. We needed you. Not some hot-shot straight outta Ivy League with no experience. You had the background, the training, the experience, the published work.”

“Ah,” she said. “Well. Thank you.”

Gibbs took a bite of his sandwich and she allowed the subject to drop, starting with her fries and trying not to look too pleased. 

“‘Sides, he was an asshole.”

Jack nearly choked as she laughed. 

-

“So. Tell me about the case.”

Elaine had cleared their plates and refilled their coffee, and Jack was ready to get to work. Their lunch had passed amicably, even if she had to force some small talk out of her companion. 

Gibbs took a case file from the seat next to him and handed it to Jack and she slid on her reading glasses. 

“Gabriel Hicks. Serial murderer.”

Jack flipped open the thick file and started skimming, looking through the pictures as Gibbs filled her in. 

“Managed to convince us he was framed and was released from prison - all on a technicality and what turned out to be a bribed witness. Figured out our mistake - my mistake - right after I testified that an FBI agent had ignored that witness to get Hicks arrested.”

Jack nodded, following along in the file as he went. “Then your guys found more evidence.”

“Yeah. Found some evidence, linked him to a string of murders - all same M.O. He beat people to death with a lead pipe, then smeared blood across their ID. Managed to re-arrest, but not until he’d killed his own lawyer before she could flip on him and nearly killed that FBI agent and one of my team.”

Jack looked at the picture of the burnt car and suppressed her memories of her tour of Afghanistan over a decade ago. “And he’s in prison now?”

“For life.” 

Gibbs sighed and Jack looked at him over her glasses. This was obviously a personal case to him - he’d emphasized that it was his fault, and it seemed to haunt him even with Hicks behind bars. 

Jack closed the file and shoved her glasses up into her hair. The movement caught Gibbs’ eye and she let him look for a moment before she spoke. 

“You chose to write this one up for what reason?”

“So the next Hicks stays behind bars,” he stated simply. 

Jack felt that maybe there was a bit more to it - that reexamining a case like this was more about beating himself up over his mistakes, but she let the realization slide. “How much do you have done?”

“Most. Got the details of the cases, everything from a criminology point of view. What steps we took, methods of gathering evidence. Pulled the forensics and had a former colleague look over the scientific stuff. Just need you.”

That’s the second time he’d said that she was needed in the same day. 

“I’d be happy to work up a profile, Gibbs. It’s been a little while since I worked on something like this, but I can have it for you mid next week? I’ll probably need to make a few phone calls myself.”

“Thanks, Jack,” he said sincerely. “I’ll get you what I wrote too.”

“If this guy is anything like you said, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a full psychopath,” Jack said conversationally. “Manipulation, methodical, the charm-factor.”

“Charm? Wouldn’t call it that.”

Jack laughed at the look on Gibbs’ face. “I would! It’s all a mark of manipulation. If he conned his lawyer, the court, you and who knows else, there had to be an element of charm to him. Ted Bundy is the famous example - he was confident, ambitious. A loving son. Everyone’s friend.”

“He was a vicious serial killer, Jack. Got the chair.”

“And he gained the trust of those around him, including his victims, by being incredibly charming.” Jack took her glasses off her head and shifted in her seat. “Evil isn’t physical, Gibbs. Yeah, sometimes you can look at someone and just… know. But evil is often hidden and deceptive. It can fool anyone.”

Gibbs held her gaze for a beat and then nodded. “Now write that in the article,” he smirked, “and you’ll earn that co-writer credit.”

Jack smacked his arm across the table and laughed again, wondering where the hard-ass that everyone said he was lurked. 

-

Jack spent the weekend pouring over the case file and the email Gibbs managed to send with his draft. She read his paper more times than she cared to admit, profiling his short and to-the-point sentences. He wrote like he spoke, which said something about his confidence - there was no trying to fool anyone with fancy vocabulary.

His voice in writing aside, the paper itself was military orderly and she could see where he left spaces for profiling. She wondered who he would have called to consult if she hadn’t been there, if anyone. 

Distracted with thoughts of Gibbs and the day ahead of her, Jack barely noticed the odd quiet on her morning walk from her car to the building. It was through a pretty area of campus, a tiny forest of pine trees and well-maintained hedges. 

She enjoyed the walk. There was usually no one out as early as she got to campus, and most mornings it was peaceful, except for the instances where something felt off. 

Like right then - the usual chatter of birds were quiet, like they’d abandoned the area. Jack slowed her walk and then stopped to look around, half expecting a mountain lion lurking in the trees. This same feeling had happened half a dozen times during the semester, and she was getting annoyed by it, determined to find the source. 

There was nothing out of place that she could see, even if it felt like an ambush ready to strike. Jack sighed and tried to shake the feeling, wondering if there was something about the walk that triggered some fight or flight in her subconscious from her PTSD. 

A bird squawked nearby and made her jump and she started walking again, feeling foolish and off-put by the morning. She had other concerns for the day, beside the backlog of work. Last night, a student from her abnormal psych class had emailed her - Claire - saying she wanted to meet during office hours later on Monday. The request wasn’t entirely unusual, but Jack sensed something different about this one. Claire was an active student in her class and often stayed behind a few minutes to chat with her and a few others, but her request felt oddly formal.

Attempting to shake the odd morning and her concerns, Jack made her way to her office, trying not to look at the door next to hers and failing. 

-

Classes went as smoothly as they could this late into the fall semester. The students were anxious for Thanksgiving break, still mentally exhausted from midterms. Jack wouldn’t mind a break either. 

After her two Monday classes, Jack had a few minutes before office hours to get some coffee (thankfully restocked in the break room). She ran into Pauline, who had a story about her pugs that takes most of her time, and by the time she got to her office Claire was anxiously awaiting her outside of it. 

Jack unlocked her door and motioned her inside, shutting it partially as Claire took a seat. She was a smart, beautiful young girl with blond hair and intense hazel eyes that betrayed an inner confidence. Jack saw a lot of potential in her.

“Claire, hi, how are you doing today?” Jack settled in, consciously moderating her tone and voice to be professional and welcoming. Claire was a junior psych major with aspirations to go to graduate school. Based on this semester, Jack could see her succeeding in the field.

“I’m good! You know, Monday.”

“I do indeed. So, what brings you here?” Abnormal psych met on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, which meant that Claire had a special reason for coming in early. 

“Well, a couple things. I’m not keeping you from anything, right?” she asked, taking out a notebook and pen. 

“Nope! Free as a bird.” Which was a lie, there was always something to do - but nothing that couldn’t be pushed. 

“Great. Well, I was wondering if you could… elaborate on forensic psychology.”

“The field or the practice?” The academic world often lined up with the practical in theory, but the reality held a difference both in the work and the lifestyle. 

“Um, practice. You said in class last week that agencies and police departments sometimes hired forensic psychologists to either teach detectives or to profile on cases. I was wondering… how do they do that?”

“You mean how someone profiles a suspect?”

Claire nodded and looked at her notebook, ready to take notes. 

“Well, it depends on the case. I worked more on the freelance side of this, but I was called in a few times in California for active cases. Basically, you get briefed by the team working the case and you build a profile of the individual from what they know.”

“Even if they don’t know who the bad guy is?”

“Yes. That’s usually more difficult. You have to work backward from whatever the crime was and how they did it, then you can speculate from there based on similar case studies.”

“Like how it’s more likely a woman if the murder weapon was poison.”

“Correct. Have you taken any criminology courses?”

Claire smiled at the compliment. “No, but I watch a lot of true crime on TV.”

Jack laughed at that. “Fair enough.”

“So if you do get a… a suspect, and you try to figure out if he matches the profile, how do you know? Like, if you’ve profiled that the bad guy is a psychopath with mommy issues or something.”

“Well, if we caught him, that usually means we interrogate him. As a forensic psychologist, I would supply specific questions and watch reactions from another room - see where they’re lying or if they display signs of what I’ve predicted.” Jack shrugged. “It’s not an exact science. A lot of it relies on your gut instinct once you’re trained.”

Claire looked contemplative for a second. “So, like for instance, you could diagnose your neighbor as a sociopath after a conversation?”

Jack laughed slightly at that. “Maybe, maybe not, and probably not after one conversation. It’s all about patterns, Claire, especially when it comes to mental health. If I noticed that my neighbor behaved a certain way over time, and that behavior fell in line with a diagnosis, I would start my investigation there.”

Claire murmured something about ‘patterns’ as she wrote. “Which goes into the logic that just because someone murders someone else, it doesn’t mean they’re a psychopath.”

“They could just be having an off day,” Jack semi-jokes. 

“But if someone, like, seeks out and kicks baby squirrels for fun all the time, then something is probably clinically wrong with them.”

“Disturbing example, but I would venture a yes on that.” Jack’s concern about Claire hadn’t gone away entirely, but she was glad there wasn’t anything immediately wrong. “Do you know someone who kicks baby squirrels for fun?”

Claire laughed. “No! That would be awful!”

“Definitely.” Jack sat up in her chair and sipped her coffee. “If you’re really interested in this stuff, I can recommend a few courses for you to take next semester. I’ll email you the codes later?”

Claire nodded and seemed to hesitate, even if she was packing up her notebook. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

Claire zipped up her backpack and stood. “No, thank you Dr. Sloane. I have a meeting in a little bit. I’ll look into those classes!”

Jack saw her out the door and closed it, feeling in her gut that whatever Claire came to ask today was left out of their conversation. But she knew not to push.

She turned back and took in the sight of her office, noting that her fern looked sad in the windowsill, droopy and a little brown next to the ZZ plant and pothos. She sighed and sat back down to work, putting on some low music before diving into the files that covered her desk, wishing that her file cabinet functioned. 

Suddenly the day hit her all at once - her off putting morning, her distracted classes, her odd visit from Claire, her thoughts circling Gibbs and his work and just…  _ him  _ and how he’s probably on the other side of her office wall right at that moment. 

And damn if that wasn’t the most distracting thought of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did reference some dialogue from The Deliberate Stranger (1986) trailer on YouTube - the Bundy film Mark Harmon was in (thanks to a comment from @justincase !) when I talked about Bundy.   
> -  
> Also look! There's a semblance of plot emerging! Let me know what you think!


	6. The Report

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been rewatching season 17 and it is WILD how much they hinted toward Slibbs. Like it’s barely subtext - Jack actively asks Gibbs to talk to her, she says she wants to open up to ‘someone’ and the scene immediately cuts to Gibbs (at the end of s16 but whatever), Nick saying they have a ‘thing’, the fucking ELEPHANT PAINTING. Whatever her exit is going to be I’m going to be heartbroken af. We coulda had it all, y’all.

Monthly department meetings were low on her list of perks being a full faculty member, but it was all a part of the job. She showed up fashionably on time, not needing to rub any elbows with her fellow faculty members before the meeting. 

She found a seat at a table near the back and, as had become predictable, Gibbs walked in and sat next to her five minutes after the meeting began, sliding a coffee in front of Jack. 

It was nice to have a steady presence of a friend at meetings, especially since she was still new. Jack was looking forward to the day where she would be familiar with all the faces around her and feel less out of place, but it took time. 

“How long is this one gonna be?” Gibbs said, not quietly enough. 

Jack shoved him with her elbow, but replied anyway. “Quick one before the break.” She sipped at her coffee, noting the correct amount of sugar in the mug. He’d gotten to know how she took it over the last few weeks of their meetings.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair and they listened to Leon talk about important dates and general reminders for the next fifteen minutes. Jack’s mind drifted as well, thinking that the meeting could’ve been an email, then remembering that Leon had sent out the agenda that morning and it already was an email. And yet here they were.

Gibbs shifted next to her and Jack’s mind was inevitably drawn to him in his restlessness. He had insinuated himself in her life easily, even after their awkwardly intimate start. Gibbs was a steady presence - a work friend that Jack trusted and now a real friend. She thought about him more than others, and she found herself looking forward to seeing him each day, even if it was just in passing. 

At the end of the meeting, Jack’s mental profile of Gibbs solidified into someone that was trustworthy. If she had a body to hide, he would be her first call after Leon. She suddenly felt sure she wanted to keep their relationship, to open up to him, solidify whatever was there between them.

She hadn’t opened up to many in her life. But perhaps it was time. 

The meeting ended and Jack rose with Gibbs, making their practiced escape back to their little corner of the building. They’d made it through all the meetings of the semester, save one last one after Thanksgiving break. 

“Want a top off?” asked Gibbs as they reached their offices. 

Jack nodded and followed him into his office. His personal coffee supply had slowly become her own over the semester, and she was addicted to it. 

“Thanks, Gibbs,” she said. He sat down and she lingered by the door, something in her not wanting to leave him just yet. She leaned on the doorframe. “I’m going to call my friend in California in a little bit, to consult on the paper. Our schedules finally lined up.”

“Good. Thanks, Jack.”

“I just want to confirm a few things, make sure my assumptions line up,” she said. “Like I said, it’s been a while since I worked on a profile like this one.”

Gibbs nodded. “We coulda used you at NCIS.”

“Doesn’t your agency have a forensic psychologist?”

He shrugged. “Said you, Jack. Not someone else.”

Fighting a blush that came from nowhere, Jack smiled and left the doorway, having nothing constructive to say after that. She needed to distract herself with busywork until she could call Grace. 

-

“The childhood trauma connection is a little iffy, Jack, but otherwise I think the rest of your profile is solid.”

“Thanks Grace. You know I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grace laughed. “Just fix those grammar issues I highlighted and you’ll be good!”

Jack laughed and leaned back in her office chair, happy to be talking to her friend. It had been too long, and Grace’s voice was a comfort - a connection to California. They met in grad school years ago and became fast friends. 

“So how is the east coast, Sloane? I take it you sold your surfboard before moving?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I miss the sun and the ocean. It’s damn cold here.”

“Ahh, do I hear a hint of regret in that voice?”

Jack sighed over the line and put her hand over her face. “No. Not really. Maybe just whining. I actually like it here, Grace. It’s a good fit.”

“It, or him?”

Jack instantly bristled and scoffed at Grace’s ‘wisdom’ tone - she’d used that on her too many times over the years. 

“Come on, Jack,” she said over the phone. “No way you’d go through all this trouble, double checking your perfect work with me, for just someone. This guy Gibbs must be… special.”

“I need to be less sober for this conversation.” Jack had to pull her phone away from her ear at Grace’s reaction.

“Oh! That means there is something going on! I was just talking out of my ass - tell me Jack, is he cute?”

“Are you kidding me with this right now?”

“I’m imagining some type of silver fox scenario… I didn’t Google him at all… But hey, you’ll tell me the details eventually. You know you will.”

Jack fought back an audible whine, knowing her friend was right. “You aren’t… wrong. But later, Grace.”

“Just give me a call. With details!”

Grace cackled and Jack hung up, not needing Grace’s mocking energy from 3,000 miles away. She meant, well, Jack knew. But geez. 

-

On her way to her car she nearly ran into some students who were throwing a football around - and to her non-surprise, they were the same frat ‘bros’ who had made a mess on her first day. She’d seen the same group around campus several times over the semester. Not having any fight left in her after her conversation with Grace, she dodged them and kept walking, annoyed at the whole day. 

Jack left quickly after that, leaving some grading for the next day in order to get home and into a comfortable place with wine and bad TV. As comfortable as possible, because home was still a half-decent apartment on the second floor of a huge complex.

Relaxation was the name of the game, with a little bit of final editing before she sent her full profile to Gibbs, which had now become a full half of a lengthy article and case study. 

Thanksgiving break couldn’t come soon enough.

-

It was the last class of the week and Jack was happy for it. She’d canceled her Friday classes and her classes the next week to her students’ break a few days and letting them have some extra time on their projects. 

She was wrapping up her abnormal psych class with reminders and discussion from the units they discussed, as after the break would be dedicated to finalizing projects.

“Not all sociopaths are killers. Not all killers kill more than once. Sometimes, for some killers, once is enough to satisfy the urge. For others, the urge is insatiable. After their first kill, the urge to reach that high - that feeling of control - again drives their crimes.”

Erin raised their hand, and Jack motioned for them to talk. 

“You said the other week that mental health issues often present with patterns. Would this kind of urge count?”

Jack smiled at Erin and nodded. “Yes, on the more extreme end. Which is a great transition to our case studies - which all of you need to work on over the break! Which, I know, is a week away still - but I have good news for you all.”

The students perked up at that - good news at the end of class was a beautiful thing, and Jack was happy to deliver it. 

“Because our next class is the Tuesday afternoon before Thanksgiving break, I’m canceling it.” Jack let the collective excited chatter make its way through the room. “It doesn't seem fair to make you come, and I’m sure this will help with some travel plans. That does mean that this is our last class meeting until after Thanksgiving. So, questions?”

Predictably, no hands were raised. By the time students got to their later years of undergrad, there was a mutual understanding of not delaying a dismissal near the end of class time. 

“Alright then - shoot me an email next week if you have questions. Otherwise, have a great break!”

Her students shouted thank-yous as they left, and Jack was unsurprised to see Claire hang back. She’d seemed a little withdrawn the last few classes since her office hours visit. 

“Claire, hey.” Jack packed up her things as Claire approached. “Want to talk in my office?”

Claire nodded and followed Jack, both of them making small talk until Claire sat down, sighing heavily. Jack had a feeling that she was going to say something that needed to be private, and shut her office door completely. 

“So, how are you doing?”

Claire looked everywhere but at Jack, and Jack remained patient. 

“Not great. Um.” Claire looked down and then up, showing every sign of nervousness. “I’ve got something not great to tell you about. I’m fine! Physically and all, now. But it’s something that I think I should tell someone.”

Jack nodded, slightly relieved but still sad that Claire had anything to report. “I’m here to listen, Claire. I do want to let you know that I’m a mandatory reporter for the college, so whatever you tell me will be on record.”

Claire paused and thought for a moment, but shook her head. “That’s fine. It probably should be. I’ve heard the stories - I’m a young woman on a college campus. I know what kind of stuff happens, and it doesn’t help anyone if no one reports it.” 

She took a steadying breath, and Jack’s heart clenched. 

“My… friend is… the last few weeks, somethings been wrong. Maybe for longer and I just now noticed, but he’s been... angry.”

“Angry how?”

“Just - yelling a lot, lashing out at our friend group over jokes, over nothing. He, um. He punched my friend Theo last week. And he shoved me into a wall, um, last night. I’m fine! But I have a bruise, and it was… it sounds dumb, but I was scared.”

Jack nodded, showing that she was actively listening to Claire as she spoke. 

“And I’m telling you, and everyone I guess, because I’m worried about him. His mood just turns on a dime.” Claire shrugged and fiddled with her hands, but Jack saw that she had relaxed. 

“What’s your friend’s name, Claire?”

“Is he gonna be in trouble Dr. Sloane? Because I know him - he needs to finish college. He - he wants to be a coach, like for a high school, and he’s in a frat! He gets good grades and everything. I just don’t understand why he’s suddenly like this. I’ve known him since freshman year.”

Jack repressed her first urge, which was to say he should be kicked out for hurting his friends, but she didn’t know the whole story. 

“He won’t be in big trouble, not unless you want to file an official report on him for assault - which I fully support if you choose to, now or in the future.” Jack waited for Claire to nod before continuing. “I want to know his name so I can put it in my report, and so he can get the help or intervention he needs. The school will alert his advisor, and likely his fraternity leaders, and they can assess from there.”

Claire thought for a moment and Jack could see her steeling herself and being brave. “His name is Patrick Truday. He’s a junior too. He’s in Phi Delta Pi.”

Jack jotted down the information, noting mentally that it was the same fraternity that the rough-housers were in.

“Thank you, Claire. You’ve been really brave today, coming here and telling me this. Do you have a safe place to go tonight? Maybe away from this guy, until things get sorted out?”

“Yeah. I’m going back to my apartment. Since you’ve canceled class, I’m heading home early for break, probably tomorrow. It’ll be good to see my mom.”

Jack smiled, glad that Claire had a good head on her shoulders. “Good. Now, if anything else does happen, don’t be afraid to call 911 or campus police, even if it’s your friend. You can call me too - my office phone redirects to my cell. Okay?”

“Yes. Thank you, Dr. Sloane. You’ve really been the only teacher I can talk to about, well. Anything. I appreciate it.” Claire smiled genuinely and shuffled her backpack into her lap.

“And I appreciate you. Now, put this out of your head and focus on all the homework you have for break! And try to relax, too.”

The smile turned into a light laugh, fulfilling Jack’s goal, and she rose with Claire to see her out. 

“Be safe! I’ll see you in ten days!”

Claire waved and disappeared out of sight, and Jack deflated, once again closing her office door. Filing a report with the school, especially when it was something like this, was never anything to relish, and she knew her worry would only compound until this was resolved. 

Jack sat heavily at her desk and quickly sent the relevant information through the online reporting system, then immediately called the head of the response team to make sure they got it and to fill in any blanks. 

When she hung up the phone, her head fell into her hands and stayed there a while.


	7. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mention of implied past sexual assault, nothing graphic.

It was Friday afternoon and she was regretting not working more on things during the week, but she had been distracted. Between Gibbs’ profiling project and her student going through things, it was hard to concentrate enough for grading, prep, and her own work outside of that. But she was pushing through, hoping to get enough done so she could stay clear of campus all the next week. The space would do her good.

That morning she sent Gibbs everything she had, and as she expected, Gibbs made his way to her office at their now unofficial meeting time on Friday afternoons, coffee in hand. 

He sat and waited patiently as she finished typing her reminder emails to be sent out next week, marking that off her list for the say. She closed the programs, took a long breath and recentered, using the smell of the coffee to ground her in the new moment.

It was just really good coffee. The company didn’t hurt, either.

“So, how did everything look? I know the draft I sent was a lot - I felt like I overshadowed some parts of the original with my emphasis, so I’m open to notes.”

He shrugged. “It’s good, Jack.”

She gaped at him. She’d added nearly 2,000 words to his article, and took it upon herself to partially rewrite his original introduction to boot. She knew he read it, he wouldn’t leave something like that alone. “What?”

“It’s a good article. You did good. Added what needed to be added.”

“Good?” she asked.

“Great.”

“Great?” 

“Am I missing something here?” He reached out his arms for emphasis.

“No, no. I’m just surprised, I guess.” Jack was continually surprised at how Gibbs responded to things. He always caught her off kilter somehow.

“Nothing to be surprised about. Knew you’d do a good job. I already sent it out, I got a guy.”

Jack nearly gaped at him again. “Well, hell, Gibbs, remind me to co-write with you on everything. I’ve gone back and forth for weeks just over a section title before.”

He shrugged in the seat, bouncing his shoulders. “Been writin’ with the wrong people, then.”

“I suppose I have.” 

Jack took another long sip of her coffee to hide her smile, the move synching up with Gibbs. She couldn’t help but think about her week, the weird walks to and from her car, the things Claire told her and her own worries about the situation, and how sad her little apartment felt as each night grew colder and colder. 

This part of the year always lay heavily in her mind - ever since she was a student. The end of the semester brought remembered stress and anxiety with it, a physical memory of worry and sleeplessness she couldn’t seem to shake even a few decades removed from doing homework. Instead, on the other side of it, she saw the same emotions in her students, the same overload of work and the exhaustion that came with it. 

“You okay, Jack?”

“Hmm?” His words took a moment to make it past the swirl of her thoughts. “Oh. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure? You seem distracted.”

“You mean you can see me behind all of this?” Jack gestured at the near-mountain of files and mess on her desk, slumping back into her chair.

“Looks like you need to get a TA to file for ya.”

Jack scoffed at the notion and tilted her head toward the cabinet in the corner of her office. “My file cabinet won’t open.”

Gibbs raised his eyebrow at that but didn’t comment. Instead, he leveled a look at her. “What’s really going on, Jack?”

Jack sighed and levered forward, leaning on the desk. “Just… the normal stuff that makes the end of the semester so crappy,” she smiled. 

Gibbs tilted his head. “Humor me,” he said. 

“Well, for starters, I had to submit a safety report this week. One of my students came to me, told me about her so-called friend - he’s been lashing out, roughing his friend group up. Punched a guy, shoved my student into a wall.”

Jack saw the flare in Gibbs’ eye. She was sure if she gave a name and location he’d be up and on the hunt. It was no doubt a flash of what he was as an agent, and she had a feeling that he had a hard time stepping away from those instincts. 

“Your student okay?”

Protectiveness was in his tone, too, like it came to him naturally. “Yes. She went home early, emailed me today to say she was on the road. I’m not too worried, but we’ll see what happens after the break.”

Gibbs nodded. He probably knew how hard it was to deal with a university’s system and sometimes non-existent support when it came to these kinds of things, but Jack had every intention to follow up and see it through. 

“It’s good she trusted you to tell you.” He paused. “What else?” 

Jack tried to brush off the question. “Just some... old paranoia. Probably because I haven’t been sleeping well. It’s damn cold in my apartment. Thin walls.”

“It’s not paranoia if someone’s after you,” Gibbs stated. His tone made her eyes snap up to meet his. 

They were very, very blue. She blinked. “No one is after me, Gibbs.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes! I just - you ever walk somewhere alone and feel like someone’s watching you? It’s nothing. I’ve just felt that walking from my car in the morning on occasion, and sometimes at night. Probably just students in a dorm room or something.”

“How long?”

“It’s really nothing.”

“If it was nothing, Jack, you wouldn’t’a mentioned it. What you’re describing is a pattern. Your gut is telling you something.”

“Or it’s nothing,” she rebutted, mostly just to argue.

“How long, Jack.” 

“I don’t know. Most of the semester, maybe since week five.”

“No more walking alone.”

Jack’s eyebrow went up at that. “Excuse me?”

Gibbs sat up in his chair and looked more serious than any other time she’d seen him. “Nope. I’ll walk you myself.”

“Gibbs, I can take care of myself. Army, remember?”

“Strength in numbers, Sloane. My gut says play it safe. Only a few days left in the semester.”

Stunned silent for a moment, Jack could think of nothing to say in argument. Or, maybe some part of her didn’t mind the idea of him walking her to her car at night, as much as the badass part of her objected. 

“Fine,” she finally said. 

“Fine?”

“Yes. I’ve probably got another hour and a half of things to do today, then I can go. Think my escort can wait that long?”

She watched as Gibbs cracked a smile, taking his cue to leave her to it. “Just get me when you’re ready, Jack.”

Jack laughed lightly as Gibbs made his exit, hanging on to that energy as she turned back to her to-do list. 

-

Gibbs waited patiently even when Jack’s hour and a half turned into two, and they walked out of the building together. It had gotten dark and cold, and the wind was picking up. 

“I think it’s supposed to snow this weekend,” she said, tightening her peacoat around her. “Not looking forward to that.”

“California spoiled ya?”

“No! Well, maybe. Nothing wrong with consistently sunny days. But I am from Philly, I do know snow. I just don’t look forward to it.”

Gibbs answered with a shrug and silence, as he usually did. 

They turned around a corner into a darker part of campus, and the hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood up. She reached out a hand to stop Gibbs, waving her hand for him to be quiet and listen. They stood there for a full minute, but she didn’t hear or see anything. 

“See? I got the feeling again, and it’s nothing.” 

“It’s something, Jack. You feeling it over and over is something.”

“Probably a racoon.” Jack took a step when suddenly something flew past her head and exploded on the brick wall beside her. She jumped back and let out a yelp, frantically surveying all around them. “What the hell!”

Jack didn’t see any movement, but the projectile had come from the bushes and trees across from them. Gibbs made sure she was okay and quickly went over to check it out. 

Jack pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight. The remains of a half-decomposed pumpkin lay at her feet, the impact point on the wall just at the height of her head. Nothing deadly, but something that would’ve hurt nonetheless. She took a picture of it when Gibbs called out.

“Hey, over here.”

She followed his voice over the grass and into the trees. He pointed at something and she turned her light on again. Footprints. 

“Looks like whoever it was paced along here for a while. Was waiting on you.”

“Or on anyone to pass by.”

“Jack, he threw that thing at your head.”

“It was a pumpkin, Gibbs.” He stared at her hard and she relented. “Alright, alright. You were right.” Gibbs looked as if he was about to go off on a chase and Jack grabbed his arm. “Come on, let’s go. It’s cold, and the kid obviously ran off.”

She could feel the muscles in his arm tense and then release, and they both kept walking, this time silent and on guard.

“I’ll write up a safety report tomorrow, there’s nothing we can do about it tonight,” Jack said as they reached her mini. 

Gibbs stood still as she fished out her keys. “Fine. But I want you to tell me more about this.”

“Sure. When and where?”

“You busy now? The Monroe?”

Jack was cold and tired, but agreed and got into her car, hyper aware of Gibbs watching her even as he walked to his truck. They had gone to The Monroe a few times since that first night and always kept the conversation light and friendly, but it felt different this time and not just because of what happened.

As she drove to the bar, Jack’s mind was in overdrive. Was he overreacting to the situation? It could’ve just been a prank, but it was weird that the kid was alone and seemingly waiting for her. If he, assuming it was a he, was escalating from watching to something violent, that wasn’t a good sign. 

That is if this whole theory about being watched was even correct in the first place and not her mind playing tricks on her. 

-

“Bourbon, light on the rocks, thanks Matty,” Jack ordered from their booth. 

“The same,” said Gibbs. 

The drinks came quickly and Jack took a healthy sip, not entirely unaffected from recently having a pumpkin thrown at her head.

“Well, gotta say Gibbs. That was a first. They don’t throw many pumpkins in Afghanistan.” As expected, Gibbs brushed off the deflection. Jack took another sip and sank back into the booth. “Alright. What do you want to know.”

“Back at your office, you said old paranoia. What does that mean?”

“Wow. Right to it, huh? I’m going to need another drink for this.” Only half kidding, she made eye contact with Matty at the bar and motioned for another round.

“Something made you alert to being watched, Jack,” Gibbs said, almost gently. 

Jack looked into her bourbon, wishing it held a way to answer, or a way out of this conversation. “Prior… experience.”

“Which means Afghanistan or somethin’ else,” he pushed. “You’re so sure that this is old paranoia and nothing relevant, but what if it is experience talkin’?”

“Well I don’t have to imagine what you were like in an interrogation room, Gibbs.” The words came out a little harsher than intended, and Gibbs had the decency to break the stare. 

The slight shake of his head was his apology. “Ya don’t have to tell me.”

The guilt that hit Jack was powerful and undeserved, and she tried to push past it. Matty sat down their next round and backed away gracefully from the tense silence. 

“You’re right. I don’t,” she said instead, finishing her first drink. “But I will. It’s not not relevant.”

Gibbs waited patiently as she figured out how to start. 

“This campus feels a lot like my campus from undergrad. Lots of trees, old brick buildings, dark pathways at night. I had a good group of friends, just like my student. Thick as thieves, party together, study together. But one friend got a little too… I don’t know. Interested, but I wasn’t.”

Gibbs nodded slightly, and Jack figured he knew where this was going. 

“He walked me back to my apartment one night, which at first was nice of him since I was alone otherwise. My roommate was out of town, the apartment was in a dodgy area, and I trusted him.” Jack shrugged, forcing nonchalance. “I shouldn’t have.” She’d never told anyone about that before, too scared after it happened, then too determined to move on. 

“Ah, Jack.”

“It was a long time ago, Gibbs. It knocked me down for a while, but ultimately prompted me to join the Army and finish my degree. I wanted to help people and I have - I did a rough couple tours, came back and got my PhD and started teaching, and the rest is on my resume which you’ve seen.” 

“But now there’s your student,” he pointed out. “And this feeling of being watched.”

Jack nodded and took another healthy sip of her drink. “I can’t help but see some parallels in her story. Just because I’m past it doesn’t mean the memory isn’t still there. I know what it’s like to be a woman on a campus like this. It’s not exactly a safe haven.”

Gibbs let the silence stretch between them for a beat before reciprocating with his own story. “Marines helped me get an education too. I stuck with ‘em through Desert Storm, but I came back to, uh.” He cleared his throat and downed most of his drink. “My family was killed. My wife and daughter.”

Jack was frozen and had no idea what to say, but was saved as Gibbs put his hand up and continued. 

“I switched careers, became an agent.” His shoulders bounced. “Lost people. Saved some, helped some. It’s hard to remember that part, sometimes.”

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable, but mutual as they finished their second drinks. Before long, Matty brought them both waters and the subject changed to lighter topics. 

“Got Thanksgiving plans, Gibbs?” Jack asked eventually as the bar wound down around them. 

“Nah. Got some projects to work on, boat to build.”

“A boat?” Jack shook off her own question. “Sounds relaxing.”

“You got plans, then?”

She shrugged. “Not really. I’ll probably spend the week fending off worried emails and 101 students begging for a grade boost.”

Gibbs smirked at that and looked down for a second, as if contemplating his empty water glass. Jack drank her water, feeling that their night was coming to a close. 

“Come by my place tomorrow?”

She tried not to choke. “Yeah?”

“Got a fire, warmer than your apartment,” he said. “Do ya like steak?”

Jack took his invitation for what it was - friendly. They both had no plans for the next week, and they just had an intense conversation. This was Gibbs’ way of reaching out, and Jack was more than willing to accept.

“Sounds good, Gibbs. Especially the fire.”

“Good.” 

Jack watched as he smiled and saw that he thought he would be rejected. As if she wasn’t eager to see where he lived - as if on some level she wasn’t insanely curious and excited about knowing more about her, uh, friend. Colleague. 

“Good.”

They split up in the parking lot and Jack smiled as she felt his eyes on her, making sure she got in her car safely. 


	8. The Fireplace

Gibbs’ house was bigger than she expected, nestled in a quiet suburb. She couldn’t help but imagine the house full of his family - his wife and daughter, thirty years ago. To stay in a place with so much history said a lot about the kind of person he was, quiet and sentimental under the tough exterior. 

It was hard to not constantly build a profile of him in her mind. Jack had trained for years to do that, not just for clients and writing case studies, but to see if she could trust someone. It was a tool she had to weed out the bad and she’d used it more than once, usually on dates or when she sussed out her new colleagues. 

Gibbs’ profile was complex and deep, and still unfinished. It was part of why she continued to be intrigued by him. Once she felt the trust between them, getting to know the real Gibbs beyond the gruff professor had become her hobby. She tried not to read into how much she enjoyed their time together. They were friends, colleagues. Their departments often collaborated, and their professional relationship was helpful for that cooperation. 

The friendship was a bonus, really, and being invited to his house was just the next step. He’d been to her apartment already. Albeit that was a late-night visit, and they didn’t know each other’s names at the time, but oh well. 

This was just a friendly visit. 

-

Jack parked her blue mini in his driveway and took a moment to breathe. She brought beer, ice cream, and a healthy amount of anxiety with her to Gibbs’ home. The beer, mainly brought to treat the anxiety, was in her hand as she watched Gibbs genuinely cook a steak over his fireplace as an old western played on his ancient television.

“So, the rumors are true. You are a cowboy.”

Gibbs snorted from his position in front of the fire, which Jack found adorable and then tried to squash the voice inside her that said, God that’s adorable. She watched as he levered himself up and came back toward her on the couch, taking his beer from the coffee table. 

“So what’s so wrong with using the oven?”

“Eh,” Gibbs shrugged. “Fire’s better.”

Jack laughed at his non-answer, sure that this is just how he learned to cook steaks in the first place. He turned and watched the fire and she watched his profile in the light. 

“A strong thesis statement, why change something that works” she said instead. His house conveyed the sentiment - his old TV, the minimal decor, the fireplace cooking. 

It matched his flip-phone aesthetic, which is something Jack found both endearing and respectable. It was rare for a person to keep things that were useful and keep them instead of moving to something new just because it was shiny. No, Jethro Gibbs was all about handmade and well-done, obviously keeping things that were useful and meant something to him.

Gibbs disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two plates and utensils. He sat one on the coffee table with the forks and knives then bent down into the fireplace again. 

Jack’s mouth hung open slightly when he reached for his belt, pulled out a pocket knife and used it to stab the steaks to put on the plate he was holding. He transferred one steak to her plate then threw another log onto the fire under the grate. 

Just as promised, Jack enjoyed a good steak and the warmth of a fireplace - the opposite of most of her nights. This weekend was supposed to be especially cold, which she wasn’t looking forward to. Her apartment building was relatively new but lacked good insulation. She’d already had to invest in a heavy comforter and heated blanket.

They each finished off another beer over dinner and as the western faded into the next, Jack felt the need to start a conversation.

Gibbs wasn’t exactly the type to chat, and if there would be any talking that night it would have to be prompted by her, aided by the good meal and beer in her system.

“So, uh, how long have you been at the university?” Jack asked when a commercial break came up. Gibbs was already a legend around campus, based on everything she’d heard from her colleagues and others, but he’d had an entire career as an agent before. 

“Six years, almost.”

“And how long were you an agent, before that?”

Gibbs gave her a look but answered anyway. “Twenty-some years.”

“Wow. So, uh, what’s the story there?” Jack was curious. They’d gotten into some deep conversation the night before, but he hadn’t mentioned the transition from agent to professor.

“Whadda mean, what’s the story?”

“You know, why the career change?”

His shoulders jerked slightly and his focus remained on the TV, but he answered anyway. “Remember those scars on my chest, that night we, uh, met?”

She did, barely. Jack remembered touching his chest more than seeing, and at that thought her mind went off-line for a moment. A long moment. The scars. “Yeah.” 

His shoulders jerked again, a physical sign that he was uncomfortable but still trying to participate. “Couple of ‘em retired me. Got me right under my heart.” He tapped his chest. “That woulda been enough, but another shattered my knee. Couldn’t keep up in the field, didn’t want to move up, too much politics.”

“And you aren’t exactly the rubbing-elbows type.” He gave her a look. “Take it as a compliment.”

He smirked. “Yeah. Anyway, I knew Vance. Been playin’ poker with him for a couple decades, he knew the former NCIS director. He convinced me to interview and here I am.”

Jack’s thoughts were sidelined as she thought about the scars he referenced, the pain he must have gone through over the years. War was one thing, but he fought in a whole other career, putting his life on the line with each case. She hadn’t thought about the weight of that, before. “That’s a big career change, from agent to professor,” she said.

“Never saw myself at the front of a classroom, but there haven’t been many complaints so I guess I’m doin’ alright.”

“Gibbs, your students love you. I’ve heard them talking - and you should see your RateMyProfessor reviews. 5.0 with everyone calling you a hard ass - You even have the red pepper.”

His eyebrow raised, but he didn’t comment. “What about you? Not the career Army type?”

“Nah, wasn’t in the cards. I loved the Army, but I… didn’t end my career willingly.”

Gibbs made eye contact, a question in his eyes, and Jack didn’t feel the need to lie. After last night, she knew he could be trusted with her secrets.

“I was a POW. Nine months in Afghanistan.” She shrugged, even as the scars on her back sent pinpricks down her spine at the memory. “I have scars too, Gibbs,” she said, even if he hadn’t seen them that night. “Came back to civilian life and went straight back to school. Thought about practicing, but teaching called me more. Even if the job market is a mess.”

She didn’t need to hover over her past. It could be left for later, between them, and he knew as well as she did what that kind of baggage felt like. A few minutes passed as they idly watched John Wayne ride a horse into danger in black and white. Gibbs broke the silence.

“There’s a lot I miss, ‘bout serving. Here and back there.” he said quietly. “Now I grade papers and make up tests. I write papers and publish them - it’s a mess, Jack. Worse than agency paperwork.” 

His response lightened the mood and served as an acknowledgement.

He looked to Jack and caught her eye, and something unsaid passed between them that Jack could only relate to an electrical current. Suddenly tense, Jack tried to change the subject.

“Yeah, but you can make a hell of a cowboy steak.”

-

The movie dissolved into the background as they talked about nothing and everything, the conversation flowing further after Gibbs cracked a new bottle of bourbon. 

Eventually he mentioned the boat again, and Jack’s curiosity got the better of her and they found themselves in the basement, half-drunk bourbon in their hands. 

Jack stared at the boat in his basement. Somehow, she hadn’t really expected there to be a boat down there. 

“Huh,” she commented after a minute. 

“Huh?”

She flicked her eyes at him, taking this moment nearly as a challenge. She could only imagine what other people had asked about the boat when they’d seen it. Probably about how the hell he gets it out of the basement when he’s finished. 

She thought quickly about the man next to her, about the basement and tools surrounding them. A solitary hobby, one he relied on many nights. Something to do with his hands that was both creative and difficult, keeping his mind off of unwanted thoughts. He was dedicated to the craft, not just the product. 

Something clicked in her head as she took in the workbench and she was impressed. “You built all this with hand tools? No electric?”

It was obviously something he was proud of judging by the look on his face. “Yeah.”

“I’m impressed, Gibbs. That’s a lot of work.” And she wasn’t lying either. Working with those tools had obviously been what kept his arms and upper body in such… solid shape. She took a sip of bourbon to hide her blush. 

“Nah, jus’ how I learned. Easier to make sure it’s right the first time.”

She nodded and took a seat on the stool next to his workbench, watching as he surveyed the boat’s frame. “How many boats have you done?”

He shrugged. “This is the seventh, thereabouts.” He started running his hand on the larger pieces, looking for places to sand. 

Jack raised her eyebrow. “You building a fleet?”

He chuckled from the other side of the boat, picking up the sander and starting to smooth out a few rough patches he’d found. “Sold a few. Couple were gifts. One, I worked on with a friend. I’ve got one docked in a lake a few hours away. This one’s a different style.”

“Do you get to the lake often? I haven’t been near water since I moved here.”

“Lake’s not the ocean, Jack.”

“Believe me, I know. I’ve been planning a vacation since I moved here - damn cold, dreary coast.”

“Regret leaving California?”

Jack heard the emphasis in his question, the ‘are you going to leave?’ hidden behind casualness, and she was touched. “Didn’t have much of a choice, Cowboy. Gotta go where the job is.”

Gibbs made a noncommittal noise and resumed sanding. She felt an urge to reassure him that she had no plans on leaving - she wasn’t lying when she said that she loved her new job and really enjoyed her colleagues. Some more than others. 

Her reply was cut off with the ring of her phone. She looked at it, wondering who would be calling her this late on a Saturday. Her landlord. 

“Uh oh,” she said out loud, drawing the attention of Gibbs. 

She shook off his look and answered. “Hi Ryan.”

“Hi Jack. You wouldn’t happen to be home right now, would you?”

Well, that meant her apartment wasn’t on fire at least, or that would’ve been a different greeting altogether - not that Ryan was an emotive type in the first place. “No, I’m at a friend’s right now. What’s going on?”

“Bad news. The power’s out. It started icing and the wind knocked down a huge transmission tower - it’s got the whole block and it won’t be fixed for probably a couple days. We’re shutting off the water so the pipes don’t freeze.”

Oh, hell. How had the weather gotten so bad without her noticing? Her eyes flicked to the basement windows, but it was too dark to see anything. “Damn, do I need to do anything?”

“You can’t stay there, obviously. I advise you to get a hotel, but be quick about it. This isn’t the only outage with the way this storm is going. I’ll call back once the power’s on, but again it’s going to take a few days from what the city told me.”

Jack’s hand covered her face. Of course this was happening! It’s not like her week had been great in the first place, and now this. She let out a sigh. “Thanks, Ryan. I’ll look for your call - and I’ll probably drop by there tomorrow some time to pick up some things.”

“Sure thing, Jack. Your renter’s insurance should cover hotel cost, too. Stay warm.”

Ryan hung up the phone and Jack’s head hung. The pleasantly buzzed warmth of the evening fled and she felt like crap. 

“What’s wrong?” Gibbs had come closer during her conversation and stopped in front of her, dropping his sander on the workbench next to them. “Jack?”

“That was my landlord, my power’s out. Apparently it will be for a while - they’re shutting off the water and everything.”

Gibbs hummed, and Jack saw his eyes flick to the window as well. They were both silent for a beat, conscious of the noise of the wind outside. “Didn’t know it was gettin’ bad.”

Jack straightened and tried not to pout, sliding off the stool and trying to get her thoughts together. “I need to call hotels before they fill up. Is there one close by? I don’t know how my mini will do if there’s ice so I should -”

“Jack,” he cut her off. “No. Stay here.” 

“What?” Jack froze, suddenly realizing that she had stopped right in front of where Gibbs stood. Her eyes rose to his as he repeated himself. 

“Stay.” His shoulders jerked up and down. 

All the tension in Jack’s body fled at his offer. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

The steady glare he sent her answered that question. 

“Thanks, Jethro, I really - thank you.” She smiled, and when Gibbs ducked his head she could help but reach up on her tiptoes and kiss his cheek. 

The moment that followed could only be described as awkwardly flustered as they both ducked away from each other, moving around to collect their glasses and mutually head upstairs to check the weather. 

It was as bad as Ryan implied and getting worse by the second. Jack checked the weather on her phone and helped Gibbs start all his sinks dripping so the pipes didn’t freeze. 

It was late and they were both tired from the evening, so when Gibbs appeared with a hoodie and sweats from his dresser for Jack, she accepted them and changed quickly in the bathroom, relishing the warmth of the oversized clothes. 

They smelled intensely of Jethro - of her friend and colleague Gibbs. Jack took a second to look at herself in the mirror and try to focus before going back to the living room where Gibbs was putting another log on the fire. 

“The bedroom is up for grabs, but it’s probably warmer down here. Couch is comfortable.”

Jack looked at the sectional and agreed, happy to be close to the fire and stay in the same room as Gibbs. Sleeping in unfamiliar places was not usually a comfortable time for her, but with someone else around and the lingering effect of the bourbon she should be fine. 

Before long they were both laid out on the couch, heads pointing toward each other and surrounded by sleeping bags and blankets. Gibbs left the TV on, and Jack drifted off as the weather man repeated the path of the storm again in the light of the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a cozy sleepover... what could this possible lead to?


	9. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (note the slight rating bump)

Jack woke to several new inches of snow and an alert on her phone that said campus was closed. The street outside looked fairly clear, so she made the decision to head to her apartment while the weather took a break. She had a few hours of a clear window, according to the forecast on her phone, to pack and find a place to spend a few more days. 

She told Gibbs as much when she found him drinking coffee in the kitchen. 

“You sure you wanna go out in this?” he asked, grabbing her a mug and letting her pour her own coffee. “Not used to driving on ice.”

“I’ve done my share of driving, Gibbs. The salt trucks have already gotten your street anyway, and it’s only major streets to my place. I can’t be stranded with nothing here.”

Gibbs conceded the point with a nod and Jack looked blindly for the sugar. It wasn’t on the countertop, and before she could ask Gibbs opened a cabinet to reveal the unopened bag. 

“Thanks.” Jack made her coffee how she liked it, appreciating the acknowledgement. She was conscious of the way her borrowed clothes dwarfed her frame, but she was too warm to really care. “And for last night, and the clothes,” she added. 

Gibbs hummed an answer and they moved back to the living room, both wanting to survey the outside. The road did look clear, but Jack was dreading clearing off her car. “You wouldn’t happen to have gloves I could borrow? And a broom for my car?”

He gave her a look. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m not exactly prepared,” she sat heavily on the couch. “But I didn’t realize there would be a blizzard, either.”

“Yeah, I’ve got the stuff. Finish your coffee, get dressed. I’ll help you.” 

With that, Gibbs disappeared upstairs and Jack did as told. She dressed in her clothes from the day before, happy to have at least worn warm boots. She folded her borrowed clothes and left them on the counter in the bathroom, but on second thought she pulled the hoodie over her thin sweater, figuring another layer under her coat wouldn’t hurt. 

If Gibbs thought anything about her appropriation of his hoodie, he didn’t show it as he came down the stairs and tossed her a pair of warm gloves. He was dressed in a different hoodie, and Jack wondered how many he had, and if she’d ever get to find out. 

They worked together to clear off her car, using Gibbs’ snow brushes and ice scrapers from his truck as the car worked to defrost. Jack silently pretended she was on the beach in San Diego even as the chill permeated through her jeans and creeped under her collar. 

“Alright, thanks again, Gibbs.” She tried to hand him the brush and scraper combo back, but he shook it off. 

“Keep it. Might need it.”

She smiled at the gesture and tossed it in the back of her car that was slowly warming up. She suddenly didn’t know what to say, feeling like she’d past worn out her welcome and at the same time wanting to stay longer.

“Well, I guess I’ll-”

He cut her off. “Come back here.”

“What?” 

Gibbs looked at anything but her as he explained his offer. “Stay here again. I got the room. Ya don’t need to find a hotel, if you don’t wanna. Probably all booked up anyway.”

Jack smiled wide, surprised to see that the offer was genuine in his near-ramble. Almost to the point where she could believe he  _ wanted _ her to come back. “Really? It’ll be for a couple days, at least.”

He finally pinned her with his stare, more steady than before. “Yeah, Jack. Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t wanna.”

Jack smiled again and then shivered. “Alright. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Call me if you slide into a ditch,” Gibbs half-joked. 

Jack got into her car and carefully pulled out of the driveway, smiling until she had to concentrate on the road.

-

She made it to her apartment without incident, taking in the sights of the city covered in white. The roads weren’t too bad, even as she made it through a few slick spots here and there. Her apartment was immediately freezing cold, and she felt for her rubber tree, hoping it would make it through the week. 

She packed the essentials, her warmest clothes, her laptop and files, and the journal and book she’d been reading. Thinking on her feet, she also salvaged her leftover Chinese food, which was enough to feed her and Gibbs for at least another meal, and the eggs, cheese, milk, bacon, and other things she had in her fridge.

She gave a last look around her apartment and decided to bring the six-pack of beer on her counter and her favorite blanket, thankful for the duffle and large IKEA bag she had for her things.

Jack only slipped once going back to her car, but she caught herself without dropping her things. She wondered if she should call Gibbs before she went back to his house, and then thought that maybe he’d need something from the store and it was the least she could do, so she called. 

_ “Gibbs,”  _ he answered. 

“Hey, I’m about to head back. Do we need anything from the store for the next few days?”

_ “Nah, Jack. I’m all stocked up.” _

“Oh, alright. Well. I’ll be… back soon.”

_ “Drive safe.” _

Gibbs hung up the phone abruptly, as he liked to do, and Jack sat in her car for a second wondering where the urge to say ‘I’ll be home soon’ had come from, and glad she was able to repress it. She shook it off and concentrated on getting back to Gibbs’ in one piece. 

-

It had started snowing again by the time she made it back, but Gibbs was there to usher her and her bags inside. 

“I brought some food from my fridge so it wouldn’t go bad,” she explained unnecessarily, dumping her clothes bag, blanket, and coat by the couch and lugging the IKEA bag into his kitchen, nervous somehow to be in his home again. “Leftover Chinese for lunch?”

Gibbs watched her unload, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. “‘S fine,” he replied. 

Jack pushed through her awkward feeling and unpacked the rest of her food and beer, folding the huge blue bag and leaving it on the counter. Gibbs was still leaning when she turned around, and she felt compelled to say something. Anything. 

“Thank you again for letting me stay here Gibbs, crashing your weekend” is what came out of her mouth, even though she’d said thank you a dozen times. The man was making her feel like she was standing on a ledge, where one wrong move could completely ruin everything they’d built over the past months, and yet she still fell under his quiet spell. 

They were no longer in the neutral location of the college; the power dynamic felt different. She was in his space, in debt to him, and it triggered some part of her brain that craved the domesticity, but it was difficult to relax into it. Jack didn’t know if it was her place to even try. 

Jack smoothed her hands over her jeans, conscious of the way his hoodie hung low on her frame. 

“‘S not a problem, Jack. Like I said.”

“Right. Um. Got any plans for today?”

He shrugged. “Boat.”

She realized then that he was just as unused to having someone in his house as she was and decided to be in charge of herself for the day. “Okay. I’m going to get some grading done, send some emails.” She looked around the outdated kitchen. “You do have wi-fi, right?”

Gibbs raised his eyebrow at her. “Nope.”

“Right. Well, I’ve got a hotspot on my phone, that’ll work fine. You know, I’ll bet they end up closing campus this weekend anyway, give everyone a good long break.” 

Jack flashed a smile and walked past him to the living room. She started moving things around, setting up a little space in the corner of the couch with her laptop and files. By the time she arranged the space and turned around, Gibbs was no longer in the kitchen, obviously gone to the basement, and she let out a breath. 

He needed the space and she would give it to him. She went back and poured herself another cup of coffee, retreating to the couch to focus on work. 

-

Hours later Jack looked up from her computer to see Gibbs hovering halfway between the kitchen and the living room, staring at the dining table. 

Intrigued, Jack shifted enough to make some noise and Gibbs turned to her. 

“Lunch?” he asked.

Jack smiled. “Sure.” She saved a few files and met him in the kitchen, helping to dish out the food she’d brought. The domestic feeling hadn’t left her, and she began to question it. If she was really so committed to remaining just his friend, why did this day feel so important to her?

They ate in relative silence, not needing to cover with small talk, and the thought remained in her head. Had a potential for a… thing, with Gibbs, been there all along? Could their friendship survive it - was it worth the risk?

She thought back to this week and how concerned he’d been over her safety. She thought even further back, to the night they met and how attractive he’d been, how utterly charming. He really knew how to lay it on and be genuine about it, but ever since her first day when they’d met again and she told him to back off, that was exactly what he’d done. 

There hadn’t been any overtures; no flirting or moves made on his part, and now she wondered if there could have been if she’d just let it happen. 

The thought haunted her the rest of the afternoon as they retreated back to their projects. The snow picked up once more, and the sky grew dark early. Jack got too warm under her blanket and decided to shuck off her sweater, keeping the hoodie on over her bra instead, comfortable in the larger fit.

She managed to get a few more emails scheduled to be sent, a few more sentences written here and there, all the while slowly coming to the decision she knew she’d make as soon as it hit her how much she trusted him after all. 

Jack stared, unseeing, at her computer. Jethro Gibbs was a good guy, a guy that backed off when asked, a guy that wanted to make sure she was safe while respecting her decisions. He was a man who’d been through hell, just like she had, and came through the other side. He was the kind of man that could be a complete bastard and still earn the respect of nearly every professor and student on campus. He was a man she could entrust with her darkest days, a man she could shelter with in the middle of a storm.

Not to mention his piercing blue eyes and strong upper body and intelligence, and Jack could go on but she found herself moving quickly toward the basement with nearly no plan other than to see where this could take them, see if he was open to it. 

Maybe it was impulsive, but it felt right.

Padding down the basement stairs and once again taking in the sight of a huge boat, she caught the attention of Gibbs who was sketching at something on his workbench. 

“Hey, Cowboy,” she greeted, trying to hide her nerves. 

He turned and took a glance at her, barely hesitating before offering her his mug of bourbon, obviously feeling like something was up.

Jack took a grateful sip, more confident with the liquid courage. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice intentionally low. 

His ears perked up, likely taking notice of how close she was standing, how her hips tilted the barest amount. 

“Thinkin’ ‘bout what?” he asked, his voice gravely from disuse. 

The bourbon hit Jack’s gut, warming her from the inside out as she took another half step forward. “The night we met.”

His eyes dilated, and Jack felt like she was on the right track. “Yeah?”

“I enjoyed that night.”

“Thought you wanted to keep us, uh, ‘not a thing,’ Jack,” he said, recalling her words even as his eyes flicked down to her lips. 

“Yeah, well. Even I make mistakes, Gibbs.”

Jack made the final move toward him but was halted with a hand to her hip. She froze, looking into his eyes as he rose from the stool, not an inch away from her. 

“You sure this isn’t the mistake?” he asked, serious. 

Jack could tell he was holding himself back, and she knew he would walk away like nothing happened if she changed her mind. That really just made her decision easier. “Yeah, Jethro, pretty damn sure.”

She barely had time to see him smirk before he took control, moving his hand from around her hip to her back and pulling her flush against him, kissing her with a searching intent. 

-

They made it to the bedroom nearly by luck, barely managing to separate on the way up the stairs, acting like a pair of college students. They paused in front of his bed as Gibbs tucked his hand under the borrowed hoodie, groaning when his hands met skin. 

“Christ,” he moaned sharply, kissing down her neck. 

“Like me in your clothes?” she asked, half genuine because she wanted the excuse to wear them more often, feeling safe in the scent of him and sexy all at once. 

His mouth answered by meeting hers as his hands slid up, cupping her breasts over her bra. She had enough of the tease and pulled back, whipping the hoodie over her head and letting him look his fill. 

From what she remembered of their first night together, there had been more fumbling in the dark than anything else. But this night was half-lit, streetlights reflecting off the snow and the hall light illuminating more than enough for both of them to look. 

Wordlessly, he took off his own hoodie and shirt, and she followed along, toeing off her thick socks and unzipping her pants, both working until they were down to underwear. 

She saw his scars, and she knew he would see hers, touch hers, and she felt nothing but lust hit her, knowing he saw her instead of the marks on her skin.

Gibbs stepped back in, starting his hands at her waist and sliding them around her, deftly unhooking her bra and letting it trail down her arms before it hit the floor. 

Jack’s skin flushed, reacting to the juxtaposition of the cool air and his warm touch, trailing goosebumps up her arms as he teased his mouth just out of reach of hers. His hands found her jaw and he finally made contact again, letting Jack lean up into him, chasing his tongue and letting her hands explore his bare chest and back. 

He led her to the bed, letting her climb to the middle and get comfortable before. Jack took the initiative and pushed her panties off, signaling him to drop his briefs. 

Suddenly he was hovering over her and she couldn’t help but reach out and grab his arms, feeling the strength in them. He grinned at the move and she kissed his smile, bringing him closer to her with her legs. Gibbs put his weight into one hand and let the other trail down the front of her, paying attention to her breasts. 

She jerked as his calloused hands ran over her nipples, breathing heavy as he continued his path lower, following with his mouth down her neck and to her chest. 

“God, Jethro,” she mumbled, her hands moving to his hair, guiding him to her breast, tucking her knee up to allow room for his hand to explore between her legs. She bucked at the first touch, letting him set a rhythm against her, driving her crazy with each second that passed. 

He leaned up slightly, asking a question with his eyes and she nodded eagerly, letting him adjust their positions. She guided him as he thrust gently, ducking down to kiss her again, controlling the short burst of contact between their lips, letting them both breathe as they built each other up minute by minute. 

Jack clutched at his back, encouraging him, relishing the feel of his muscles moving beneath his skin. She beared down and he groaned against her mouth, rising up and adjusting her again, letting one hand find where they joined, helping her along as they were both close. 

She crested the wave with a half-choked noise that sent him over the edge, both of them tensing as they came. Gibbs kissed her after, let her come down gently, collapsing next to her with a satisfied noise in his throat, tugging her close even as she turned into his chest knowing she made the right decision.


	10. The Conversations

Jack woke to an empty bed and a too-dark room. The alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed it was almost 2am, and she sighed. They’d both managed to rouse themselves enough to clean up and get half dressed before succumbing to sleep the night before, and Jack stomach rumbled with the reminder that they didn’t eat dinner.

Trying not to worry at Gibbs’ absence, Jack got up and tugged the blanket with her. She wrapped it around her shoulders to trap in warmth, the borrowed henley, boxers, and thick socks only doing so much against the arctic-like air.

She found him downstairs in the kitchen, leaning against the cabinets and eating cold, leftover pizza as the coffee maker gurgled on the counter. One look from him confirmed her welcome and she joined him, sticking out one arm from her cocoon to grab a slice.

“This is disgusting,” she said, eating it anyway. Her comment caused him to laugh, just like she’d hoped.

“Didn’ have dinner last night,” he said, shrugging in explanation. “Got hungry.”

“Well we worked up an appetite,” she winked.

He snorted slightly and she took the moment to look him over. He was in sweatpants and the same thick socks, and while he’d gone to sleep last night shirtless, he’d grabbed a hoodie on his way downstairs. Her hoodie. Well, the one she’d appropriated anyway.

The wind whistled through the windows, snow coming down heavily outside. The coffee pot gave its last gurgle and Gibbs turned, pouring them both a mug more for warmth than caffeine. They mutually took another slice and adjourned to the living room, the couch more comfortable and warmer. 

They juggled the mugs and pizza as Jack stretched the blanket over both of them, settling close to each other. Jack leaned into his warm side and finished her pizza, moving to cradle the hot mug in her hands. Gibbs did the same next to her and they settled in silence for a while, just listening to the weather outside and taking comfort in the moment. 

Streetlights bouncing off snow shown through the windows, highlighting them in silver tones. 

Jack had nearly drifted off until Gibbs shifted slightly against her, his whole body going tense. Instantly alert, Jack looked up at his profile and saw by the set of his jaw he was overthinking.

“What’s up?” she asked gently. 

He hummed for a second, visibly not knowing what to say with the shake of his head and jolt of his shoulders. 

She could guess, though. “You’re thinking too hard about this thing.” She gestured slightly between them. Jack was surprised that she wasn’t the one overthinking. Instead, she felt calm about it. In the moment, it was hard to see anything that could be wrong. 

“Is this a  _ thing _ ?” he asked finally. “Should it be? I’m not...” he trailed off.

Their voices remained half-quiet in the darkness of his living room, the conversation unheated.

“Big questions for so early in the morning.” Jack sighed and repositioned herself, taking a sip of the coffee to wake up. “You warning me away, Gibbs? What’s so wrong with you that could scare me off?”

“Been married four times.”

Jack was lucky to not inhale her coffee. “Alright - holy cow.” That was a lot, but hell who was she to judge? She was in her 50s with no significant relationships under her belt and enough baggage for a few lifetimes.

“Not good with relationships,” he continued. 

Jack nearly thought it was funny that this was his big concern. That his past trauma - or hers, for that matter - wasn’t a factor in moving forward. In so many ways they’d already bonded over the worst things in the world that had happened to them both, and now that a romantic relationship was possible, he froze.

“I’d like to disagree there, just based on the last four months of knowing you, even as a friend. You’re a good man, Gibbs”

“Jack…”

“Seriously, it doesn’t seem like there’s a problem now. Nothing stopping us.”

“Could be,” he negated immediately. 

Jack rolled her eyes and leaned back against him, more sure than anything that whatever this was, it wouldn’t be going away so quickly. “Could be  _ whatever _ , Jethro. We won’t know if we don’t try.” She waited until he was looking at her before continuing. “I’m in if you are. Simple as that.”

He couldn’t hide the smile that caused, and she smiled back at him, as bright as anything in the darkness around them. 

“Simple as that, huh?” he said to himself. 

Jack minded their coffee mugs and leaned in, meeting his smile halfway, and in that moment it was just as simple as that. The early hour hit her hard, stomach satisfied with their snack and worries soothed in his kiss. She pulled back just enough to speak. “Let’s go back to bed.”

She led him back upstairs, trailing the blanket with them, looking forward to sharing body heat in the cold winter night. 

-

The next few days went by in some sort of easy domestic haze. 

Jack worked on grading and writing, constantly answering semi-panicked emails from students concerned about grades and projects. She sends out reminders and reassurances to her students, and even exchanged a few emails with Claire to make sure she was doing alright. 

She also adopted a new outfit composed of thick socks, leggings, and a Gibbs hoodie that kept her warm even as the blizzard continued. 

Gibbs functioned like he usually did when home, working on his boat and watching TV, entirely unconcerned with whatever work was piling up in his inbox since he couldn’t get to campus. Jack had offered at one point to let him log in on her computer but he just shook his head. His lack of concern with work was inspirational.

It could almost pass as entirely friendly if not for the fact that they slept in the same bed each night, and often did more than sleep. If not for how close he sat on the couch by her, and how often she found herself wandering down to the basement just to watch him work. 

Jack was a very physical person, and not just with sex. When she was involved with someone she liked to be near them, touching them somehow, and with Gibbs it was no different. He, luckily, didn’t mind. 

-

The snow continued to pile up and the temperatures were bitterly cold, so they were trapped inside for the week. The day before Thanksgiving, Jack was relaxing on the sofa, pecking away at an idea for an article, when Leon called her. 

“Hey Leon!”

_ “Jack, how are you?” _

“I’m good! Just catching up on work, not much else to do.” Jack leaned back into the couch, watching as Gibbs emerged from the basement and went into the kitchen, no doubt looking for food or drink. She stretched out her legs, relaxing further into the corner of the couch.

_ “I’ve been meaning to call for days with this weather, but the university has been in panic mode with this cold. A pipe burst in one of the dorms and in the student union, and now everyone is on high alert.” _

“Damn, yeah I heard about the pipes. My apartment building hasn’t had power since Saturday night and they shut off the water so that wouldn’t happen.” 

Gibbs appeared in the archway and silently motioned with a beer, asking if she wanted one. Jack nodded and he disappeared again.

_ “Hell, Jack, that’s rough luck. Is there anything I can do? Are you at a hotel?” _

“No, actually, I’m staying with a… friend.” Said  _ friend _ handed over her beer, and she cringed when his eyebrow raised at the term. 

_ “You know someone on this coast? Good, Jack. Listen, just call me if you do need anything, a place to stay. I’d invite you over for Thanksgiving tomorrow but I doubt the roads will be drivable.” _

Gibbs sat down on the couch at her feet, obvious in his interest to who she was talking to.

“That’s alright, thanks for the invite Leon. I’m good staying here,” she said, making eye contact with Gibbs while talking. “Really good.”

_ “The offer stands. I’ll see you next week, Jack.” _

Jack said her goodbyes and hung up, shifting more to face Gibbs on the couch. 

“Leon, huh?” he asked, smirking slightly. 

She nudged him with her foot, only a little amused at his half-jealous tone. “Yes, Leon. He’s my friend too, remember?”

“Yeah, friend.” He took a drink and she noticed the obvious emphasis on the word. 

She sipped her beer too, trying to work out exactly what was going on in his head. “You are my friend, Gibbs,” she said as a reminder.

His hand came down around her ankle, his thumb smoothing across her skin. “That all I am, Jack?”

His question surprised her for a few reasons. She didn’t think he’d be the one to seek out a definition of what they were, first off. And, secondly, she thought the answer was pretty damn obvious. 

Jack swung her legs down and stood up just enough to sit back down close to Gibbs, feeling the need to be close for whatever reassurance he needed. She took his hand and squeezed it. “No. That’s not all you are, and you shouldn’t have to ask.”

Gibbs sighed and looked at the ceiling, and she could feel him struggling to find words. He was obviously uncomfortable, but the fact that he was willing to sit and ask instead of disappear made her soft, so she saved him the trouble.

“We’re just us, Gibbs. I like you, and I think we could be good together. We can be whatever you want. Partners, maybe? I’m too old to be someone’s girlfriend, I think. But we’re also friends. I’m not giving that up.”

The tension in his jaw relaxed, and she guided his head toward her to kiss his cheek, then relaxed her head on his shoulder. 

“I can call Leon back right now and tell him all of that,” she continued. “I only said friend because I didn’t know if you wanted to keep this quiet or not.”

She felt him shrug. “‘S up to you.”

Jack smiled against the material of his hoodie and tugged his arm closer, content to share a quiet moment with her definitely-more-than-a-friend.

-

Their peaceful world was maintained through Thanksgiving day, feasting on the last steaks Gibbs had in his fridge and a bottle of wine Jack had brought from her apartment. 

It was a small and quiet day, but one of the best Jack had had in recent memory. 

Friday morning, much too early, Jack was woken up by the ringing of her phone. Sleepily, she reached out and drug it close enough to see it was her landlord calling. 

Minding the fact that Gibbs was still asleep and half curled around her, she answered quietly. 

“Hi, Ryan.”

_ “Good morning, Jack, I hope I didn’t wake you. Good news, the power is back on and the water will be turned on in about an hour.” _

“Oh great. Thanks for letting me know.” The words were entirely unenthusiastic. 

_ “Yep. Let us know if there’s any damage to your apartment when you get home. Have a good one.”  _

Ryan hung up and Jack let her phone fall back to the bed, unsettled at the prospect of going back home. She’d spent nearly a week with Gibbs in his house, and it felt nearly unreal that she had her own place to go back to. 

The thought that she didn’t want to leave struck her hard, and she nearly teared up, emotional so early in the morning. It had just been so long since she had a warm body in bed next to her that wasn’t some one night stand, even if the current person had started this way. 

Now, despite logic telling her differently, it was like the world they had built around them this week was shattering before her, and there was nothing to do about it. Reality was ready to jump back in. The semester still had to wrap up, and she had a cold, shitty apartment to go back to at night. 

Sensing her silent distress, or more likely awake since her phone first rang, Gibbs’ arm tightened around her and he made a noise in the back of his throat in question. 

“Ryan called,” Jack whispered needlessly. “I can go back to my place.”

“Not righ’ now,” he grumbled into her hair. “‘S early.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not right now.” Jack’s jaw tightened around the words, her brain still trying to make sense of everything she was feeling. The stillness of the air got to her, made her stomach tight.

Noticing her tone, Gibbs forced himself to be more awake than he was. He was half shooting in the dark as to why she was so tense under his arm, but the obvious catalyst was the call she just got. “Ya don’t have to go today.” 

“Yeah?” she whispered back. 

“Yeah. Stay. Roads’ll get better in another day or two. Or ya can come back. Still on break ‘til Monday. Whenever ya want.” He conveyed an open invitation to his home the best he could, sleep still pulling at him after their late night. He needed to know she knew she was wanted around. 

“Okay,” she said simply. “I will.” The worry slid from her brain for the moment, pushed aside with the reassurance that he wasn’t kicking her out and that she could always come back. That this week wasn’t a one-off fluke of the weather and timing.

Jack relaxed back into him and he let out a long breath, both of them settling back into the warmth of their morning, both assured that there would be more mornings just like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> domestic fluff? in this economy? always necessary.   
> just a few more chapters, folks! let me know how you're liking it as we near the end!  
> if you haven't already, go check out the slibbs soulmates a-z prompts that dlodleo and I are publishing!


	11. Diagnosis

Jack ended up staying until Sunday afternoon, too caught up in the ease of spending time with Gibbs in his space to want to leave. When she got back to her apartment she realized she’d left a few of the lights on, but she was pleased to see that her rubber tree seemed alive. 

Sleeping in her own bed that night was comfortable, albeit lonely. She didn’t know the rules for the partnership her and Gibbs had embarked on, but she wasn’t exactly moved in with him. That meant they would both be spending time apart, even if her gut tugged her to him. 

He was a self-confessed serial monogamist, and she hadn’t had a serious relationship in so long she forgot what it was like. Even if every instinct she had was telling her this was right and that he was it, she still felt the need to go slow. 

As slow as they could, anyway, which seemed faster every day. Jack thought that this must be what it was like to be in love, even if she couldn’t quite say it out loud yet. 

Monday morning dawned cold but without more snow, which meant that campus was open for business and the roads were dry. Jack was still taken with the white landscape of snow and ice and she wondered how long it would last before melting away into gray slush.

Unsurprised but utterly charmed, Gibbs was waiting for her in the parking lot with coffee, still committed to walking her to and from her office. 

“Mornin’ Dr. Sloane.”

“Professor Gibbs,” she replied in the same tone, matching his smirk. She held herself back from kissing him, not particularly wanting more gossip before the end of the semester. She could only imagine what Brandon and Theresa would say.

But he looked so damn charming and sweet, and her coffee was exactly how she liked it, so Jack tugged on his lapel and dragged him down for a quick kiss anyway. 

Silently, they made their way to their building with no incidents, barely seeing another soul on campus so early. It was the perfect start to the week, to walk in with Gibbs. It was the last week for instruction, then it would be finals week and the semester would practically be over, save for grading.

Usually she was a little adrift during the long winter breaks, but Jack had a feeling she’d keep plenty busy this year. 

-

By Wednesday morning, the delight of being back on campus had disappeared. Jack loved her job, but between the pervasive cold weather and the general cloud of stress over the campus, she was getting frazzled. 

She met Gibbs again in the parking lot, and they didn’t stop for pleasantries. The weather had turned frigid, near zero with an accompanying bitter wind that had them hurrying with their noses in their collars, clutching coffee cups for heat. Jack caught his hand briefly before they parted, going to their separate offices with plenty to do. 

She had a lot on her mind. Of course, her to-do list was a mile long and mainly full of things to grade. Her fern was either entirely dead, or in some sort of hibernation after the crazy cold they’d had, and her useless little filing cabinet was buried under loads of papers it was supposed to organize. 

All of that was on top of the bad feeling in her gut that the issues from before the break weren’t over yet. 

Claire had acted quiet in class the day before, and even though her student gave no indication of anything being wrong, Jack still worried. Maybe it was stress, or maybe something else had happened. 

That had prompted Jack to follow up with the case manager after that class, but all they’d done was talk to the student over the phone. The fraternity that Patrick Truday belonged to just gave him a warning about his falling grades. 

The lack of behavioral intervention was intensely frustrating - students didn’t just stop exhibiting concerning behavior after a phone call. 

And her gut was proved right when she ventured down to her office mailbox that afternoon, bringing her mail back to her office. 

Among the reminders about final grade deadlines and general information about the break and next semester, Jack found a hand-written note that pretty much confirmed that Claire’s friend and the odd stalking and pumpkin incident were connected. 

_ DEAR DR. SLOANE, WHAT I DO WITH MY FRIENDS ISN’T YOUR CONCERN. NEXT TIME I WON’T MISS. WATCH OUT, BITCH.  _

It was an escalation, a direct threat, and it was intensely concerning. It was also a cry for help. Students didn’t suddenly go from being on the dean’s list to making threats overnight - something was wrong, and it seemed like no one cared to find out what. 

Jack’s frustration with the entire system overwhelmed her and she vocalized it in a half yell in her office. 

Suddenly angered, Jack turned on her heel and kicked the stupid broken file cabinet, helpless at the turn of events. This kid was going to get kicked out or worse, because she had to report this note, and there was nothing she could do. 

It would hurt Patrick, it would hurt Claire and their friends, and nothing good would come of it.

What good was a safety reporting system if it did nothing to help the students? This is exactly what led to kids getting swept under the rug, or situations like this escalating way beyond what was necessary. Everything Claire had told her over the past few weeks pointed to her friend needing behavioral intervention - not punishment. 

This kid, whatever he was going through, needed help - not the campus police knocking at his door. Claire deserved better, too, after coming forward and trying to help her friend. 

Torn at the situation and everything else piling up in her mind, Jack kicked the cabinet again and sat heavily in her office chair, covering her face with her hands. Before she could begin to think about her next move, her door opened.

“Hey, is there a reason you’re tryin’ to knock a hole in my wall?”

Jack peeked through her fingers and saw Gibbs looking more concerned than annoyed, despite his tone. She sighed and motioned him in, and he closed the door behind him. 

Silently, she handed over the note. His raised eyebrow said everything. 

“I know,” she said. 

“Jack, this is more than someone watchin’ you and throwin’ pumpkins.”

“I know, I know. And it confirms that my student’s friend is the one who did it.”

Gibbs set the note back on her desk, and she noticed him fidgeting in his seat. She’d bet everything she owned that he was fighting back the urge to storm out and find this guy, and likely the only thing holding him back was not knowing the kid’s name. “What’d the safety response do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing beyond ‘we talked to him,’ same with the frat - they just sent a letter warning him about his grades.”

Gibbs shook his head. “Doesn’t help someone who’s struggling,” he said. “Jack. This is an escalation - writing a note and delivering it…”

“I know. It’s not good, but it’s worse for him. He’s obviously dug himself a hole, and as soon as I report this note he’s in for it.”

“Expulsion?”

Jack shrugged. “Likely, at least. This is a threat, too. No doubt there’s video of him walking into the mailroom - everyone has access. He’d probably confess, too. And I need to make sure Claire is alright.” Jack closed her eyes, mind spinning rapidly. “I wish I could just ignore it, hope it passes.”

“But you can’t,” Gibbs said. 

“No, I can’t. Because he could have a gun, or hurt someone else, or countless other things and I have a responsibility to report it. Even if it’s just a scared, angry kid trying to get some attention, which is exactly what my gut is telling me.” Jack slumped forward and rested her elbows on the desk, leveling a look at Gibbs. 

“What’s the plan?” he asked. 

She knew, somehow, that he’d do whatever she wanted, and she loved that about him. But she also knew that she had to follow protocol, even if it was by and large a bunch of bullshit. 

“I’m going to email Claire to make sure she’s alright, then I’m going to file a report. There’s not much else I can do.”

Gibbs thought for a beat, then shook his head slightly. 

“What?”

“We should call Leon, have a meeting with him.”

“What’s he going to do?”

“He knows the other Deans, Jack. He’s got more power and sway with the powers that be, than we do.”

“And he can facilitate the process, maybe help the kid if he’s willing,” Jack finished the thought for him. “Why didn’t I think about that?”

Gibbs smirked at the pseudo-complement, and Jack felt the load on her shoulders lighten just a little bit. Gibbs stood and smiled down at her, making her smile too. 

“I’ve got class, I’ll see you at three?” 

Jack nodded and stood too, taking full advantage of the closed door and pulling Gibbs into a hug. She needed it, dammit, and he was more than willing to oblige. 

“See you at three.”

Gibbs hesitated before opening the door and turned back at her. “Stay at mine tonight? Just in case.” 

Jack wanted to say no, that she could look after herself, but she missed sleeping in the same bed with him. It was easy to nod her head and accept the invitation, especially if it meant she had something to look forward to after all the reporting and grading she was in for that day, other than her cold and lonely apartment.

-

Claire confirmed she was fine over email and agreed to write up her side of the story for Jack, telling her again that there was something wrong with her friend.

Jack decided to do a little digging that morning before class, pulling up Patrick’s social media page and calling a few of the friends that Claire had mentioned to gain more intel. She spoke to his advisor, who told her the same story - Patrick’s grades had been fine until this semester.

The bigger picture was becoming clear that this was a deeper issue than just a young man who had anger issues, and Jack felt like she had enough anecdotal evidence to convince Leon to pull some strings. 

Her theory was that Patrick Truday likely had an undiagnosed case of Post-Concussion Syndrome, or something similar, that was causing him to lash out and likely self-medicate with either drugs or alcohol. 

His social media pages pointed out a few injuries he’d received in a football camp over the summer. Claire said he was aiming to be a coach, which meant that he likely participated in a lot of high-contact sports, further confirmed with pictures and his position on the basketball team last year. 

Her and Gibbs had a meeting with Leon that afternoon, and she had gathered enough to present a preliminary profile of Patrick in hopes that he could be directed to get help instead of expelled and abandoned by the very school that put him in this position to begin with.

-

Gibbs met her outside of the main office, there for emotional support and as a witness. Jack was already anticipating Leon’s overprotective side to come out, and she hoped that having Gibbs there could curb it. 

Pauline greeted them with a suspicious sparkle in her eye that Jack tried not to ponder too much. “Professors, Leon’s ready when you are.”

“Thanks Pauline,” said Jack, and Gibbs walked close behind her.

“Jack, Gibbs, come on in,” Leon called, motioning them to sit in front of his desk. He got straight to the point. “I know this is about the case report you forwarded me. I followed up with the case manager, and they haven’t come up with a plan of action yet, still needing to confer with the president’s council and the student, likely tomorrow afternoon. This is turning into quite a production on their end,” he said. 

“And that’s why I wanted to go over some options with you, Leon.” Jack handed over the file with all of the intel she’d gathered, and explained what she had found. 

Leon listened and took a moment to flip through the evidence, then closed the file and looked between Jack and Gibbs, who had been quiet. “Let me get this straight. This student, whom you have never met and who has been harassing you and other students,  _ and  _ who has just threatened you - you do not want to press charges”

“Correct.”

“And you want to make sure he isn’t expelled from the university?”

“Yes.”

“Because you  _ think _ he’s got PCS, and a drug problem? Jack-”

“Leon, he’s obviously going through something. PCS is treatable. His friends are worried, and you know damn well that the case response team hasn’t done shit,” she said candidly. “This student deserves more than us turning our back on him.”

“And what does your gut say, Gibbs?” he asked, obviously familiar with the way the former agent worked. 

“Jack knows what she’s talkin’ about.”

Leon looked at the file in front of him, then back at the two professors before him, then sighed. “I knew, somehow, that the two of you together would be trouble,” he said. 

“Leon…” Gibbs raised an eyebrow, silently supporting Jack’s case. 

“Good trouble. I’ll do what I can, Jack. I agree with you that this student shouldn’t just be expelled from the college. We’ll make sure there are options.”

Jack relaxed back in her seat. “Thanks, Leon, really. I appreciate it.”

“Until then, I expect you two to stick together and keep an eye out.”

“Yes, sir,” Gibbs replied with only a little sarcasm. 

Jack smiled slightly at the concern and stood, knowing it wouldn’t be hard for her to keep close to Gibbs.

-

Friday evening, Jack and Gibbs had escaped campus earlier than usual, bringing with them a mountain of final grading to get through before finals week. Gibbs had a stack of papers at least two feet high on his dining room table he’d been putting off, while Jack luckily managed to keep things digital. He had to steal her reading glasses for the evening to decipher student handwriting.

Finals week would involve the rest of Jack’s classes presenting, and her Psych 101 section taking their last big exam, which was luckily mostly multiple choice. Gibbs had a mix of everything, having assigned some of the higher level students finals to fit their needs rather than having everyone tested on the same thing. It made for interesting grading, at least.

She’d been staying with him since Wednesday that week, using the excuse of Leon wanting them to stick together, even though he meant just on campus. Jack took it a little further and received no complaints from Gibbs. 

Her mind had been in split focus, concerned for her student and for the situation with another student who technically threatened her and was running loose all over campus during a very stressful time. It had been hard to sleep, and she was determined to work herself to exhaustion that night so she could get some rest, and it seemed like Gibbs was on track to keep up with her.

Halfway through the work she wanted to get done, her cell rang. 

“Hey, Leon,” she answered and put the call on speaker, locking eyes with Gibbs as they listened. 

_ “Jack, good evening. I’m calling because we just wrapped up a very long and involved meeting with Patrick Truday.” _

“And? What’s gonna happen?”

_ “Basically, you were right. We had a doctor come in and give a preliminary diagnosis with his consent, and his parents attended as well. He confessed to writing the note and stalking you, and experimenting with drugs.” _

“Oh, hell.”

_ “That’s right. We managed to put him on academic suspension instead of expulsion, with the understanding that he’s to receive treatment. His parents apparently know a place, and we’ll keep in contact. They extend their thanks for not pressing charges.” _

“Good, I’m glad. This is the best possible outcome.”

_ “After meeting with him, I have to agree. Jack, this whole mess just proves that the university’s response to these situations is outdated and ineffectual. I think you have more than enough grounds to bring this up with the oversight committee next semester, if you want to make a change.” _

“Damn right I do,” Jack said. “I’ll look into research over break, Leon. I’m more than happy to make this a project.”

_ “No doubt it will help more students like him. Alright, it’s late and I’ll let you go. We can talk more soon.” _

“Night, Leon. Say hi to Jackie and the kids for me.” Jack hung up and let out a huge breath, relieved and tired all at once. “That could’ve gone south quick, Gibbs. Ruined a kid’s future, his whole life, not to mention everyone around him.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t.” Gibbs took off her reading glasses and put them down on the pile of ungraded work. “You didn’t let it.”

Jack halfheartedly looked at her laptop again, then closed her eyes, knowing that this victory was mostly based on blind luck. There was no way she’d get anything else done that night. The stress of not knowing what would happen had kept her going all week was finally gone and she was exhausted. 

Gibbs saw it too and stood, and tipping her laptop shut. “Come on, up. Let’s go to bed.”

Jack didn’t argue; she followed him with her eyes half-shut, more than looking forward to passing out in his bed and getting some rest. There would be time for grading in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! just the epilogue left!


	12. The Cabinet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this story is done! Thank you for reading and commenting on it - I have a feeling this won't be the last we see of the professors :)

Winter break was nearing, and Gibbs escorted her to the university each morning so they could fulfill their duties in observing their finals and grading endless papers. 

Jack was stuck in her office chair most of the days, giving detailed feedback on projects and helping with other end of semester needs like scholarship recommendations and last-minute registrations. She knew Gibbs was working on similar things, a wall away from her.

Jack took in the mess of her desk, smiling at the card Claire had given her the last day of her class. It was a simple thank you, and it meant the world to Jack. 

Sighing, Jack closed her eyes and spun in her chair. Her office was piled with books and notes, folders and papers. The end of the semester was practically there, but Jack had plans for her break - the project of trying to fix the student concern reporting system would take time and research, likely spilling into the next semester and beyond.

She looked at her plants. The ZZ was holding strong as ever, hardy to the last. Her pothos looked a little sad and cold, and the fern had hopefully entered some sort of hibernation. Or it was dead. She needed to take them home for the month long break, reunite them with her rubber tree. As she thought about it though, she figured they might be happier at Gibbs’ house - it was warmer there, after all.

She was happier there, too. 

Her apartment was tiny and cold and full of IKEA furniture that she kind of hated. She’d see if he was open to the idea of plant fostering. It wouldn’t hurt to have something to check on at his house, give her an excuse to pop by whenever.

-

As it was, Jack barely left Gibbs’ house the last week of class. The bitter cold had stuck around, freezing and refreezing the snow that had fallen the week before, and she took the excuse of the warmth in Gibbs’ home to stick around. 

Not that Gibbs minded, as far as she could tell. In fact, he seemed to really enjoy waking up in the same bed as her. More often than not, she woke up with him curled behind her, one hand tucked somewhere in her clothes for warmth and contact. She didn’t mind that, either.

Not when she felt his hand just below her breast first thing in the morning, and when he woke when she stretched, tightening his hold on her as he stretched and drew her closer, kissing against her neck just under her ear…

The last morning of classes, Jack awoke in her own bed, alone. She’d needed to tend to her apartment,water her rubber tree, and get some fresh clothes for the morning, and she knew she couldn’t just stay at his home forever, as much as she’d like to. 

Her mini pulled up beside his truck, where he was once again waiting for her. Escorting her was entirely unnecessary, but he still insisted.

“Hey Gibbs,” she asked him as they walked toward the building for the last time that year. “Can I bring my office plants to your house? I think they’d like it there, and my apartment is just so cold still…”

He shrugged, just as she thought she would, and Jack tugged on his arm in thanks. They walked up through the building, noting the lack of students milling around - most of them done for the year. They detoured to collect the last round of campus mail, then headed toward their interesting corner. 

This was usually where Gibbs pressed a kiss to her head and they separated for the day, but instead Gibbs hesitated. 

Jack looked back at him questioningly, but Gibbs remained silent. He gestured with his shoulder, motioning her to open her office door. 

With a barely suppressed grin, Jack unlocked her door and entered the office, noticing immediately what he’d done. In the place of the old, broken file cabinet sood a new one with three drawers that she had a feeling all opened smoothly. 

Jack grinned wide and turned back to Gibbs where he stood in her doorway. 

“Gibbs,” she breathed. 

“For your files. Don’t have to kick that one,” he said. 

She glanced back at her new file cabinet and felt an overwhelming sense of love which translated into needing to kiss him, immediately. 

Jack reached up and met him halfway, holding his face in her hands and feeling his arms around her back. He must’ve worked on this for a few weeks, either when she wasn’t around or at night when she was sleeping. It was incredibly sweet, and she was already planning all the ways she would say thank you. 

She had just pried open his mouth with her tongue when she heard a throat clear in the hallway. They froze and snapped their eyes open, taking a second to break away from each other and face whoever had caught them.

Jack was both relieved and embarrassed to see that it was Leon. At least he was smiling. 

“Professors,” he greeted. 

“Leon,” Gibbs grumbled. 

Jack couldn’t help but laugh - at grumpy Gibbs and at the circumstance. 

Their boss shook his head and raised a hand. “I don’t want to hear about it. I just wanted to catch you before you left for break, wish you a good holiday. Though I doubt that’ll be a problem.”

Jack smiled at the comment and nudged Gibbs, who was still looking more at the ceiling than either of them. “Thanks Leon. I think you’re right.”

“I’ll let you two get back to work, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

Leon graciously left them alone, and Jack giggled against Gibbs, knowing how much he disliked his personal life being public. “Well, at least he knows now,” Jack said. She tugged on his brown leather jacket teasingly.

“Yeah.” Gibbs locked eyes with her and gave her a final kiss, sweet and short, before releasing her altogether. 

“I guess I’ve got some filing to do. Coffee?”

“I’ll make a pot.” Gibbs hung around in the doorway as Jack went back into her office, looking at the cabinet and testing the drawers. “You gonna bring those plants by tonight?”

“Yeah, maybe we can meet for drinks first, to celebrate?  _ The Monroe _ ?”

Gibbs smirked and nodded his head. “Sounds good, Jack.” He tapped the doorframe and went to his office to make coffee for them.

Jack smiled at her new cabinet, looking forward to having a few drinks with Jethro in a bar, letting the semester come full circle. With any luck, she’d be leaving with him again, this time to his warm house with every expectation to stay as long as she could. 

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! I'm just a few chapters in so far. find me on tumblr @viceversawrites  
> (their first meeting was grey's anatomy pilot inspired.)


End file.
